Late Apology
by Erik's Other Lover
Summary: Years later, Christine's daughter seeks out the infamous O.G.; after the death of her mother and the rejection of her father. Will the former O.G. forget his past and learn to love again? "What happened to the O.G. and Christine?" The result is this tale.
1. Storm

* * *

This story mainly focuses on our dearest Erik, also known as O.G., Opera Ghost, Phantom, and angel of music. Let it be known; even though Erik is much older he is still a very attractive, intelligent, and corrupt man. His appearance is based mostly off of the movie with Gerard Butler, just add about twenty years or so. As far as background info, allusions, past events, and historical points; they have been taken from Gaston Leroux's original book. Enough of my rambling. Let it begin!

* * *

Chapter 1

Storm

It was late evening. Heavy rain rattled on the roof and battered the windows of the diminutive house, which resembled a small cottage. Thunder sounded and shook the small dwelling. Flashes of lightning lit up the sky for a split second before fading back to black.

Inside the house, sat a man in the dark, except for a small candle that was burning next to him. His head was bowed and he was slumped in the aged and tattered armchair in the corner of the room. The only sound that could be heard, besides the storm, was his shallow breathing. There he sat, motionless and soundless in the dim and depressing light.

There was a light rasp on the front door. He debated silently to himself whether to answer, and he saw no real harm in it. Without ever looking in the direction of the knock, he beckoned in his visitor, "Enter," his voice was calm, but firm. No one ever bothered with him anymore, most believed him dead, and he hadn't interacted with another human in many long months of solitude.

The door opened slowly and revealed a woman standing there. Her silhouette stood in the doorway, unsure. He didn't look up, but he watched her close the door behind her and hesitantly step into the room. The rain had soaked her long brown hair. Her wet grey riding dress clung to her lean body and her maroon cloak hung around her tightly. If she hadn't been tormented by the storm she would have appeared very beautiful, but he didn't pay much attention. He was pushing fifty-four and he had neither need nor want of a woman as a companion or anything else for that matter.

He observed her standing in the middle of the room, dripping wet onto the old oak floor. She crossed her arms and was shivering from the wet and cold. He watched her for a moment before slowly standing and readjusting his hood so it covered his face again. She opened her mouth to speak but he held up one hand. "Stay," he commanded.

Emerging from the other room he set a light black dress and other garments on a chair and motioned for her to pick them up, which she did. He then pointed to the other room so she could change. He didn't want to get too close to her because it was so awkward as well as he wanted to respect her privacy, and he had grown to have distaste for women over the years for reasons that he wish he could forget, but they always teased and tormented his mind.

He struck two stones together and it instantly started a fire in the minimal hearth. He fed it with four logs then pulled two wooden and worn chairs up in front of it. He reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out a small bottle and poured himself a small glass of bourbon before sitting in one of the chairs. He swirled the contents of the glass as he watched the flames of the fire dance about. He readjusted his hood again, so it shadowed his face perfectly. He took a small sip of the alcohol. The warm liquid slid down his throat and spread warmth throughout him. How the young girl managed to find his dwelling, he was unsure of. He made sure it was out of view and isolated from the rest of society...

He heard footsteps behind him. He didn't turn but beckoned her to seat herself beside him. He took another sip of his drink then swirled it around again. He watched her slowly walk toward him and sit next to him in the other chair. She didn't look his way but kept her focus on the fire.

Her hair was not longer matted and it hung around her shoulders in locks of long brown curls. The dancing flames memorized her deep brown eyes. The black dress that he gave her fit perfectly, which surprised him. He stared at her for a moment as thoughts of the past flooded into his mind and he quickly dismissed them. _No, it can't be._ There was a bizarre familiarity about her appearance. He quickly downed the rest of his drink. He reached inside his cloak and poured himself another. He stared into his glass and then back at her. He blinked to convince himself that he was awake and that this wasn't one of his common nightmares that he would soon awake from.

The girl wrapped her arms around herself and her knees were pulled up to her chest. She looked frightened and confused like a little lost child, but he could tell she was in her very early twenties because of her girlish radiance and charm that hung about her.

He looked back to the fire and began to speak because he was curious and he couldn't stand the awkward air between them, "I bid you welcome to my humble dwelling. Dare I ask how you came across it?" he asked.

She looked down at her lap. There was uncertainty and hesitancy in her voice as she spoke, "I-I got lost in…the storm."

He could sense that that wasn't the truth, for he was an expert at reading people, even though he despised them. She didn't come across his home on accident or by mere chance; that was apparent. She came here for a reason. _For what?_ He wasn't quite sure, but she wanted something. He massaged his temples with his gloved fingers. His temper wasn't as it use to be and simple things didn't anger him as much, but he was still capable of going on an irate rampage, when or if provoked.

"Do not lie to me," he said slightly irritated. He turned to look at her from underneath his dark hood, which shadowed his face from her.

The girl looked over at him with fear and curiosity in her eyes. "My horse ran off and I have nowhere to go," she mumbled and turned her gaze back her lap.

He observed her fidget nervously. Even in his old age he still sent a bit of fear and intimidated some, which gave him a taste of twisted pride. He took a drink from his glass and cleared his throat. "I see." He looked at her for a long moment. That was the truth, but not all of it. "I assume you will wait the storm out, then you will depart," he said as studied her face.

She nodded. "If you wouldn't mind, sir," she said. He nodded and set his glass down and tossed another small piece of wood in the fire.

The two sat in silence for a long time as the awkward air ate away at him. He stared at her for a long moment. "Perhaps a story to pass the time?" he inquired.

"Sure," she replied.

"Not all stories have happy endings," he warned.

"I'm aware. Please begin," the girl said. She already looked intrigued.

He took a deep breath then started, "A long time ago, there was a monster, a hideous beast, which lived all alone in isolation and seclusion; shunned from everywhere and everyone. It was locked, shamed, and shunned away from the rest of the world and longed to be what one says is normal. The grotesque face of the monster is what confined it in its prison; a horrible and unfortunate disfigurement was what plagued the beast. It was either despised or feared by all. It was shrouded in darkness and longed to see the light, of which it was so deprived. The monster was a tortured soul who only wanted to be accepted for what it was…"

"That's horrible—"

"Quiet," he commanded.

"Yes, sir," she said. She sat patiently while looking at him.

He paused for a moment. "As I was saying, before I was so rudely interrupted…" He paused once more to make his point and watched her wince at his words. "The monster wanted to be accepted into the world. It spent all of its time alone in its solitude…its darkness…It had neither companion nor friend. You would think that the monster would grow lonely, would you not?"

"I would think so," the girl said.

"That was rhetorical. I suggest you don't interrupt me further."

"Sorry," she mumbled.

"The monster grew tired of its loneliness in its solitude. The only thing that comforted it was creating beautiful music. Its music is what fueled its empty existence and kept it from completely deteriorating away to nothingness. But what purpose is there if there is no way to share music, no one to share it with? It wanted to rise up and reach the world, but no one would listen…" He shifted in his seat and looked as though he had become overcome with sadness, which is how he felt. He was glad for the safety of his hood's shadow. He exhaled a large sigh. "I bore you."

"Not at all, sir. Does the monster find someone to share the music with?" she inquired as she sat up and watched him with interest.

He sat back in his chair. "The monster was tired of being lonely and it wanted someone to share its music with. Music is the companion of the lonely…the expression of the corrupt… It longed to be able to touch another and be touched in return without the fear of being denied. It longed to have someone to share with, but after all of these years living in solitude it had learned to be its one companion…"

A familiar voice began to sing a sad tune inside his head. _Child of the wilderness born into emptiness, learn to be lonely. Learn to be your one companion. Never dream that out in the world there are arms to hold you…Learn how to love life that is lived alone…_ He sighed and cleared his head of the mocking voice.

"That's all very sad," she commented.

"Yes," he agreed.

The other nodded and sat back in her chair.

"The loathsome monster needed a purpose to live. It needed someone to comfort it and show it the light when it was lost and alone in its dark. It longed for the light, but none ever came. It was considering death. A life is not worth living alone, my dear."

"Poor soul," she said sadly.

He nodded.

"Why do you always refer to it as a monster or an it? Was it not a person?"

If only she could have saw the glare on his shadowed face, it would surely pierce through her and peer into her very soul and eat away at it until nothing is left. "Let me finish."

"Yes, sir," she said.

"One day, a young girl came into the monster's castle. You recall the Opera Populaire?" he asked.

"The one that was burned to the ground?"

"Oui," he answered.

"This was the monster's domain?" she asked.

"His playground," he replied.

"His?"

He immediately regretted his mistake in words. He cursed himself internally. "Excuse me, a slip of the tongue."

"The so-called monster was a man?" she leaned forward obviously interested even more.

"In a sense…Let me continue." He rested his head on the back of the chair. "A young girl came upon his Opera House. She was a young Swedish girl, the daughter of Gustav Daaé."

"The famous violist?"

"The very same."

"Ah..." She looked away from him and then back. Many more questions plagued her mind.

He picked up his glass and took as sip. "Back to the girl...She came to the Opera House when she was very young. Her father had passed away and she was orphaned and taken in by Madame Giry, the ballet teacher. He watched over her and made sure no harm came to her while she was there, in his domain. He sang to her when she slept and watched her from afar. He soon discovered that she was gifted with an angelic voice. He decided that she wasn't reaching her full potential and that she could be the star, the _prima donna_. He had to perfect her voice. He needed her by him, to teach her, to sing. He became her tutor…"

"Secretly, not doubt."

"Would you like to tell the story?"

"No, no."

"Her voice had become his passion…the girl believed that he was in fact the angel of music that her father had promised to send to her when he died. He secretly, taught her and was always with her, whether she was aware of it or not. After spending so much time alone, the monster had finally found something, someone that he cared for. The young girl…" His voice trailed off and he seemed to become lost in his thoughts. "Oh, Christine," he said just barely audible.

"What?"

"Christine."

"Ah."

"After some time the man felt that he couldn't let her go for the fear of losing her to another. He had to make her his and he tied her chains to him forever. Her love soon became his obsession." He paused. "After many months the man finally revealed himself to her. He took her down to his world. She shared in his emptiness…his loneliness…she was the only one whoever listened…"

"He loved her?"

A lone tear rolled down his cheek. "He did…and still does…He loved her with all of his being. He loved her from the moment he first saw her…first heard her voice…"

"Are you alright?"

"Fine," he roared. He took a moment to gather himself and his face became emotionless once more. "Her love became his obsession…He loved her, but she refused and denied to return his love, which was all he asked in return. She turned away from the monster because of his distortion. Not the distortion on his face, but the distortion that lies within his soul. And, he still loved her. She loved another…A young Vicomte…" He sighed. "Her refusal became his rage."

"Poor man…"

"No, poor Erik."

"Poor Erik?"

"Oui, she said that."

"Who is this Erik?"

"Surely you have heard of the infamous Opera Ghost."

"Oh, yes. I recall him. He died in the first great fire."

"Could you be so sure?"

"Do you suggest that he is still alive?"

"Let me finish the story."

"As you wish…"

"He became enraged and was driven to murder for his love. His genius became madness. He did some very horrible deeds that he wished he could forget. He killed for her…He did everything for her. He murdered out of love and jealousy. After all he had done for her, she exposed him for what he was; a monster--a murderer. She exposed him in front of many witnesses, a full house opera."

"He forced her back to his domain--back to the place where light burns and fades into the dankest dark. He threatened her with her lover's life so she would spend her life with him. Either end her days with him or send her lover to his grave…In the end he let his heart get in the way…He let her go out of love and he fled…Again he was left to his darkness, loneliness, and solitude."

"That's the end? What happens after? What became of the ghost? He didn't die in the fire, did he?" she asked eagerly.

"You ask such obvious questions," he stated and was slightly amused.

"Do tell me what became of the man, Erik," she practically begged.

"You still don't understand even though the answer is right in front of you." He shook his head disappointingly. The other still looked very confused.

"Do you mean to tell me…that…you are Erik?"

He pulled his hood back to reveal a face hidden by half-face white mask. "Stories are better if they are told by one who lived it. Don't you agree?"

The young girl let a gasp escape her and she paled. She was too dumbstruck to say anything so she sat and stared at the white leather mask on his face; she became mesmerized by it.

Erik stood and walked over to the front of the mantle; he leaned on it and watched her. "You came looking for and found what you sought out. Of what relevance am I to you?" he asked. The way the shadow of the flames played on his face made him seem much more intimidating and ghostlike.

After taking a few minutes to gather herself the girl looked over at him. "My mother passed away four months ago," she said.

He could hear the sadness and the hurt in her voice, but felt no sympathy for her. He left his mother at a very young age and she loathed him. He thought of his mother as a very cruel and shallow woman. He was denied his mother's love, which is why he remained indifferent. "My sincerest apologizes," he said without the slightest hint of emotion.

The girl adverted her eyes to her lap and started toying with a string on her dress. She fought back old tears and looked at him. "She did love you," she mumbled.

Erik took a moment to digest her words. _Who? _Then it hit him. The reason why she looked so familiar, she was Christine's daughter! Old wounds opened and Erik felt the misery return, all of his regrets, and his faults. Even as time passed, he never forgot the last time he ever saw her…Erik turned his back to her as a few tears were shed for his lost love. He didn't want her to see him in his state of venerability.

The girl watched him and could see she hit a nerve. "I'm sorry. But what I say is true. She did love you, Erik," she said softly.

Erik turned to face her. "You lie!" he yelled. His anger was ablaze and she flinched at his outburst. "Must this torture never end? Why have you come here?"

Erik looked at the young girl sobbing in front of him. Her tears ran down her pale cheeks and feel onto her dress. He could relate all too well to her pain and his was far greater than she would, could ever experience. She was far too young to understand that type of pain and misery that he had grown to know. Then again, the poor girl had just lost someone close to her; someone she loved.

Without a doubt, Erik loved her also and the concept of Christine deceased tormented him. He wanted her to live a happy and long life no matter where she was or who she was with. He dreamed her life would be a very successful and joyous one. He wanted that life to be with him, but she had denied him that and over the years he had tried to except the fact, but he never could bring himself to.

Erik always knew deep down in his soul that there was a piece of Christine that didn't want to leave him that horrid night, those many years ago. There was a part of her that loved him and desired him, but she wouldn't admit it to herself. He had reached that part of her that no one ever could. He had touched that stored passion and released her talent. Whenever she was near him, he could sense it, she wanted him. The effect he had on her…The shared so much together. Their sweet music, of two meant for each other. She had helped him create that beautiful music and they danced in its glory until that ignorant young Vicomte interfered.

His attention was brought back to the young girl sobbing in front of him. She shook and small sobs racked her body. He tried to wrap his mind around the fact that Christine was dead, but he couldn't bring himself to do so. She was young and was meant to lead a great life, but fate hadn't been kind to her…It took everything away.

Erik suddenly felt light-headed. He sat back on his heels, where he knelt next to the girl. He felt tears well in his eyes. They were coming and couldn't be stopped. He sat there and cried with her. He shed tears for the girl, his loss, Christine, and all of the other things he had ever dreamt of that were ripped away. Now there was no purpose for him. Without knowing Christine was out there, in the world, his existence meant nothing.

He no longer cared if the girl saw him like this or not. He couldn't control himself. He started shaking subconsciously and he bowed his head in his hands. He tried to calm himself, but he couldn't. He lost the last bit of self-control he had left and continued to cry out all of his strongly felt emotions. Perhaps the alcohol was getting to him? He wasn't sure nor did he really care. He continued to let out he pain. After all of these years, this was his release.

Erik sat slumped against the wall bawling into his hands. He felt a small hand touch his shoulder. He looked up to see the girl kneeling in front of him, tears continued to fall down his face. The alcohol had set in and he couldn't comprehend what was happening, except for he felt this great grief that plagued him. "Y-your mother loved me?" he slurred with his tears.

She removed her hand from his shoulder and looked directly into his deep green eyes. There lay much pain, miseries, and loneliness that had built up over the years. She pitied him greatly. "She loved you very much, Erik," she replied.

Erik looked up at her. "Why did she leave me?" he wailed.

She could see there would be no reasoning with him and she didn't see the point in explaining anything to him right now. His mind was gone and he wasn't himself. Against her better judgment, she moved beside him and held onto his arm and whispered calming things into his ear.

Erik nodded and sobered at the touch of the young girl. He pulled his arm from her and leaned in the opposite direction to get away from her in a sense. He wiped away his remaining tears and looked back at her. He then stood and straightened his collar and gathered himself completely. He paced to the other side of the room and kept his attention on an old painting as he spoke. "I think it best you retire for the night," he said crisply. "The first room on the right."

"Yes, sir," the girl said.

Erik waited until he heard her walk away and close the door behind her in the guest bedroom, before he settled himself back in the chair in front of the fire. He reached back into his pocket and pulled out his small bottle. He couldn't deal with let alone comprehend that Christine was dead. It hurt too much and he wasn't ready to face it. He downed the rest of it instantly and sat there in his drunken stupor staring into the dancing flames.

One could say that Erik has in fact become accustomed to using alcohol to ease his pain. He couldn't deal with the pain alone and he dreaded going back to his morphine addiction again. He had the scars on his left arm from the many needles that probed his skin and injected the foul drug. So there he sat staring into the fire, completely intoxicated and lost in his drunken state awaiting for sleep to claim him.

* * *

I hope you enjoyed the first chapter. I had fun writing it. Reviews are greatly appreciated and thanks for reading!

* * *


	2. Acceptance

* * *

I don't feel like rambling right now so...let the reading commence!

* * *

Chapter 2

Acceptance

Whenever Erik did fall prisoner to fatigue and sleep, which he didn't do often, he was plagued by the most morbid and grotesque dreams. In these bizarre dreams he was in the body of a repulsive carcass of a monster. This monster would have fantasies of torturing and killing random innocent people that crossed its path. He found that in the dreams, he took great pleasure in torturing his victims. The cries, moans, and pleas from those he tortured echoed in his head and gave him a great sense of pleasure. The monster feasted on the blood and pain of others. The cries of shear agony made him mad with carnage and power. This sense of power only fed the drive to kill and kill again.

Erik's favorite parts of the dreams was the torture that he inflicted upon his woeful victims. Watching the sickly purple color fill one's face while being strangled by no other than his trusty Punjab lasso, added to his sick pleasure and excitement. When the struggled against him in a futile attempt to escape, this only fueled his murderous need and want.

From time and time again, Erik would have these very rare dreams that appeared like a heaven to him. He would no longer be distorted physically, nor covered in scars. His body would become perfect and unscathed. He would walk along through a meadow hand in hand with a beautiful maiden, no other than Christine. With there fingers entwined they would walk and talk like a normal pair of lovers would. Then when he would turn to kiss his beloved, all of the ugliness to him would return and when he leaned in to place a gentle kiss to her red and plump lips she would die on his touch. She would fall and turn a sickly grey color and he would be left holding his dead love in his arms…

***

Upon hearing a small creak in the floorboards behind him, Erik slowly opened his eyes. The fire had died down to a few smoldering coals and it was no longer warm in the small house. Thankfully he wasn't visited by any dreams; the alcohol had worked its magic wonders. He didn't need to turn his head to know that the girl was standing behind him. He lifted his head ever so slightly and winced at his headache; the only consequence to drowning himself in his sweet drunken stupor. He straightened himself in his chair and smoothed back his hair.

"The storm has long since ended. You will be on your way," he stated without turning to look at the girl.

The old oak floor creaked as he heard her walk toward him. She moved and sat herself into the chair next to him. Her arms were wrapped about herself and she appeared to be calmer, but still had an uneasy air about her. She opened her mouth twice to speak, but continued to sit in silence, occasionally looking over at her host.

Erik grew uncomfortable with the girl watching him. He remained motionless and hoped she would get up and leave. He didn't want her here, nor did he want to discuss let alone think about Christine's death. After some more awkward silence, he finally spoke up, "You will be leaving." He didn't look at her. He could feel the girl's eyes burning into him, but he wouldn't meet her gaze for the fear of her effect she had on him. For some reason or another she had been able to break past his mask, not the mask that covered his face, but the mask that blocked everything out and wouldn't let anybody in. This mask guarded him from the world and shielded him from getting hurt, or so he thought it did.

"I want to stay…Just a little while longer," she said.

There was no longer any hesitancy or fear in her voice. She seemed more at ease this morning. Erik now began to question what had happened last night while he was intoxicated, but then he shook those thoughts aside. Nothing had happened, even in his drunken state he would have been aware if anything had happened. He finally looked over at her; feeling defeated and venerable once again, but he let indifference settle in on his face. "The storm has passed. You are leaving," he said.

The girl looked at him, sadly with her large brown eyes.

These no longer had any effect on Erik. He no longer cared about the emotions of another. "Since you _lost_ your horse, I will escort you back to the edge of the town, for that is as far as I dare go," he said with unfeeling.

She nodded reluctantly. "When?" she asked.

"As soon as I am ready. In my age it takes quite some effort and energy to accomplish the simplest of tasks. Time has not been kind to me for that matter," he said sourly. His brow furrowed and he stared into the smoldering hearth.

"Can't I please stay?" she begged.

Erik looked back at her. "Why do you insist on doing so? A young woman such as yourself has far more important tasks to be attending to then rotting away out here with this monster."

She took a deep breath and focused on his masked face. "Alright, I have nowhere to go," she admitted. Tears formed in her eyes, but didn't fall.

Erik rose from where he sat and moved so that he leaned on the mantle. He suddenly felt a small amount of anger resurface. Was she trying to make him feel sorry for her? He didn't want her here. All she would do is remind him of Christine, which would only cause him more pain and heartache and he didn't want to endure anymore than was necessary. He wanted to mourn the lost of his love alone.

"You have a wealthy father and a large and luxurious home, don't tell me you have nowhere to go. Your are most fortunate to have all of those things, dear girl. I live here alone in this small hell," he spat the last few words. He glared at her with his menacing green eyes.

She shrunk back a bit at his words. The tears swelled in her eyes. "After my mother died, my father is no longer home. He has become an alcoholic and I watch him suffer and die a little more with each passing day. I can do nothing to help him. He won't speak to anyone and when he is home he locks himself in his study. I'm no longer allowed at home because my presence reminds him of her…" She started to cry as continued. "I have nowhere to go and no one to turn to."

Erik took a moment to digest what she had just told him. _The insolate fop of a boy has become a drunken defeated man and shunned his daughter out on the street because her mere presence reminded him of the deceased Christine? _He took a moment to compose his thoughts. He then looked directly at the sobbing girl. "Against my better judgment, this will not do," he stated.

She looked up at him surprised and confused. Wiping away her tears she spoke, "W-what?" she asked.

Erik paused for a moment and couldn't believe he was actually going to let her stay with him. _She has no where to go…No one ever helped me or showed me any compassion…She needs someone…Just for a few days. _"You are welcome to stay her as a guest until you can find somewhere else to go," he said bluntly.

She jumped up and ran over and hugged him. "Thank you so much, Erik!" she exclaimed. Upon her touch, Erik grew very tense. He hadn't been expecting nor been prepared for that. He didn't return her embrace and he guessed she took the hint because she released him and stepped backward a few feet. She stared down at the floor.

Erik fixed his collar and looked back at her. "As a guest in my house there will be certain things you are expected of," he said. She looked up at him and nodded for him to continue. "Clean up after yourself. My kitchen is open for your use, use it sparingly for I dread going into town and purchasing items. My study and my private bedroom are not to be intruded upon. My horse is off limits for he only obeys one master. Don't cause me any grief and we shall make the best of this situation," he said with indifference. "If you break any of these rules you will be gone," he added.

She nodded an couldn't help but let a small smile crease her lips. "You don't know how much this means to me," she said happily.

Erik nodded and paced to the other side of the room and ran his gloved hand over a bookshelf. Quite a bit of dust gathered on the end of his fingers. "I'm sure I do," he mumbled more to himself than to her.

He now wondered if he just condemned himself to a hell along with this girl. He still couldn't understand why she wanted to stay with him of all people. Whatever the reason she was here for the time being and that was that.

* * *

Erik irritates me sometimes...Ugh. Anyways, Thanks for reading and reviews are always welcome!

* * *


	3. Mentality

* * *

I feel like being all complicated today and I wrote this when I was on one of my insomnia trips...Enjoy.

* * *

Chapter 3

Mentality

The human understanding is a mystery and will forever remain unknown. Even the greatest and most brilliant of men have yet to understand the composition of the mortal mentality. Why people do what they do is far beyond us. Actions are carried out, but never are fully understood as to why. How a murderer can slay and kill again without feeling any remorse and even find pleasure in the sick and wickedness of it all is incomprehensible. Then there are others who cannot even comprehend causing any violence towards another and shudder at the thought of spilling another's blood. How these two separate minds work and exist in the same plane are completely complex and questionable at best. Not one person's mind is similar to another, except for the ways of individuality; we are the same by being different.

Erik however, feels no remorse for the many of people he has slain and he cares not to wash away the blood that stains his hands. Every person he has ever murdered has haunted him relentlessly. He took part in creating ways to kill and torture for the mere pleasure of it. One could say that he is indeed a monster at best, but that is not all of Erik's character.

Being a very complex man, he is also very unpredictable. One moment he could be indifferent and the next he could be on an irate rampage and if you were in his way he would turn back to carnage for a release, and not hesitate in spilling your coppery blood upon the cold ground. Even with his anger fully ablaze he can immediately change his demeanor to become overcome with sadness or self-pity. Never learning to control his temper and other emotions is his downfall in most cases.

When Erik didn't want to face a problem or thought he would put up mental barriers and carry on if nothing had happened. His greatest defense of all was pretending that it never occurred. He would try to forget and lock it away in the back of his mind. In doing so, it kept him sane in a sense. When overwhelmed he would hide from his problems and oppressors and this fueled his rage and made him an unstable time bomb just waiting to explode on the next unlucky being to cross his path.

When told of Christine's death, he simply pushed it out of his mind and would not face it because it was far to painful. It would catch up to him eventually, but now was not the time, according to Erik.

It had been one entire day since Erik made the decision of letting that young woman stay as a guest in his humble home. He had distanced himself from her completely and confined himself to his room. He didn't wish to speak to her or let alone look upon her. Maybe in time he would, but not now. The old wounds were fresh and open and she was the salt that burned into him so.

***

In the gloom of his room, Erik lay on his back staring at the old and dingy ceiling. He counted the cracks in it as he lay there in deep thought about what to do with the girl. How he terribly regretted in agreeing to letting her stay. He hadn't always been swayed by tears, but he had. He cursed himself and sat up; angry with himself for being so incompetent. Women were all the same; little vipers and demons waiting to strike and take all you hold dear. Then just rip it away as if you have no feeling…

Slowly he stood and ambled over to his small dresser made of worn cherry. He looked into the dusty and small mirror at the shady character staring back at him. He ran his gloved hand over his half-face white mask that covered his distortion. He frowned at his forever mocking self loathing. His menacing and piercing green orbs of eyes stared back at him with an emptiness that made him shudder. His hair had grayed over the years, but he was lucky not to have it recede or balding. Gray patches of stubble covered his chin and cheek.

One could say Erik was indeed a very handsome man; he aged well besides the fact that he wore a mask. He sighed and adjusted his collar and straightened his shirt. He sometimes questioned why he did so, for he had no one to judge his appearance, but then again old habits die hard. The once infamous Opera Ghost had always taken pride in looking his best, not that it mattered anymore.

It had been three days since he had last consumed food, besides his alcohol and one could not live off that alone. If he were younger he could have gone far longer, but with age he had grown slightly weaker and he hated how it limited him. Reluctantly, he walked to his door and slowly opened it a stepped out and locked the door behind him and shoved the key into his pocket.

Erik turned around and his hunger pangs were forgotten as he saw that the young woman had fallen asleep in _his_ chair with a leather bound book resting in her lap. He knew what it was and she had invaded his privacy by even touching it. His anger grew and his temper flared. _How dare she! _

He stormed over to her and grabbed the journal from her lap and tucked it under his arm. She woke and looked startled as he did so. Her eyes grew very wide and he leaned down with both of his hands clutching onto the arms of the chair. He face was only two inches from hers. He struck fear throughout her and new very well what he was doing.

"How dare you," he growled. "How dare you go through my belongings? This was private, woman! Not for you eyes or for anyone else's for that matter."

She closed her eyes not able to look him in the eyes. She became filled with fear and he could almost taste it. "I-I'm sorry. I d-didn't k-know," she stuttered.

His grip tightened so hard on the arms of the chair that he thought he might split the wood. "All of you women are all the same. You conniving little wench! To think I gave you the permission to stay here. Oh, my little viper, you shall never be free of this never ending torment and you shall spend it in hell's darkest depths, for I am the devil's spawn," he hissed.

The girl shrank back as far as she could in the chair, which wasn't much. She refused to look him in the eye and fueled his anger all the more. His silence and stare was eating away at her. He knew; he could feel her melting and breaking before him. After a few minutes, his breathing slowed and his face began to lessen in intensity, but some anger was still there. He waited impatiently for her to speak.

She opened her eyes and looked as though she was going either faint or breakdown in a fit of tears. She looked up pleadingly as if asking forgiveness. She found her voice at last, "I didn't read it," she said.

Erik gaze softened slightly, but he remained where he was. "You lie," he replied with indifference.

She shook her head and looked him square in the eye. "No, I swear that I didn't. I was going to, but I fell asleep," she said. He furrowed his brow and waited. "Check the clasp if you don't believe me. I never opened it."

Erik continued to stare at her in disbelief. Had he wasted all of this breath and erupted for nothing? He answered her with low sigh.

"Check it," she urged.

He shot her an icy glare then stood to his full height to intimidate her. He pulled his journal out from under his arm and examined it. She hadn't opened it. Erik tucked it inside his jacket then looked back at her. She had still gone throw his personal items and would be punished for doing so.

* * *

How dare she! Holey ever lovin' cow. Hahaha. Wonder what Erik is goin' to do? Thanks for reading! Reviews are wonderful!

* * *


	4. Denial

* * *

I just came to the conclusion that Raoul ruined everything; I strongly loath that ignorant fool. I mean seriously think about it. You know how Christine goes to her father's grave after _Il Muto_? Well...If that fop of a boy de Chagny didn't just happen to wake up then Erik would have totally won over Christine. Ugh, that Vicomte makes me so angry... Anyways, Enjoy this here chappy!

* * *

Chapter 4

Denial

Late evening had come and all was silent except for the reverberation of the rhythmic tapping fingers, gloved of course, against the aged cherry wood desk. The room was dark with the exception of a lone dim candle whose illumination danced about on the bare gray walls of the small bedroom. An occasional draft blew in from the door and caused Erik to shiver slightly and pull his cloak around himself tighter. His other arm that rested lazily on his desk supported his head. He stared blankly ahead into the empty space before him for what was an eternity.

The creaks and groans from the settling of the house's foundation teased and mocked Erik with their annoying racket. The shutters rattled as the wind whipped away at them and the whistling of the wind stuck in his ears; distracting him from his thoughts. His fingers ceased their drumming and he slumped forward and buried his face in his arms on the cool surface of the desk in an attempt to escape from the irritating clamor.

A low groan of frustration escaped from his throat and he raised his head for a moment and looked at the aged mahogany door of his bedroom. He debated on whether or not to depart from the confines of his room, but he decided against it and laid his head back down on his desk and buried his face in his arms, unsure of what to do and what to think. Many thoughts flooded into his mind and he pushed them back behind the mental barrier he had created to keep the pains and miseries of long ago at bay.

Even though Erik hid behind his mental mask some thoughts broke through and he could do nothing about it except to try and ignore them. It was a futile effort to try and hide from one's emotions and thoughts because one can only hide for so long. When the youthful woman had appeared, she had reopened his old wounds and she had cut deep into fresh ones that oozed and burned so horrible that he couldn't even think about it without feeling like he would either go completely mad or breakdown.

As far as his thoughts concerning Christine, he was incapable of accepting let alone thinking of the fact that she was deceased. To him it was just a horrid nightmare that he still had yet to wake from.

_Christine couldn't be dead--no, she wasn't dead. She was living happily with her beloved Vicomte, damned fool, at the large de Chagny Estate...He had a perfect face and was young as well. They would go for long leisurely strolls out in public without the fear of being humiliated by a monstrous face…_

Erik's old jealously grew and festered within him. He didn't even want to think about the wedding. It was probably a large and glorious wedding…with many people…and Christine is her wedding dress…a most amazing sight… It should have been him and Christine getting married, not that insolate boy. He didn't deserve her and Erik was the one who taught and molded her into the success she was. He had reached that untapped passion and music stored within her and her soul belonged to him, as did her heart, or so Erik thought once upon a time.

Mind wandering, Erik started thinking about _their_honeymoon and he suddenly felt ill at the thought of the Vicomte even touching Christine. The boy's fingers grazing her soft angelic skin, his lips on hers, her giving her body to him fully…Erik grimaced and his face grew very hot at the thought and his anger flared. He shook his head to clear the rest of the horrid images from his mind and thought back to Christine. _Christine is not dead._ She had a wonderful life ahead of her, even without Erik. Just knowing she was out there gave him purpose and fueled his lonely existence. He pushed the thoughts from his mind and went into a state of utter denial.

Sighing, Erik sat up and straightened his mask and smoothed back his graying hair. He stood from his desk and walked slowly toward his window and stopped. He opened the shutters just enough to feel the cool wind whip at his face. He gazed up at the heavens; stars littered the sky and were accompanied by a waxing moon. He sighed as a gust of wind hit his face and nearly knocked off his mask. He slammed the shutters closed and began to pace in a circle in the middle of the room. He paced from one side to the other then back again. His strides were even and monotonous just like a most depressing and lone metronome.

Erik's hunger pangs returned and he remembered that he still hadn't consumed anything because of that incident he had with the girl. By now, he hoped she would be sleeping so he didn't have to listen to her whine. He unlocked his door and slipped out of his room and locked it behind him and walked down the short hallway. He made sure to keep quiet so not to wake her.

After she had violated his journal, Erik had decided she was to be confined to her room without food, water, or anything else until she could give a complete and sincere apology to him; one that he decided was fit. She wasn't aloud to have anything; there were no books, mirrors, or wardrobe of any sort. Not even a bed, she had the cold floorboards, four walls, and the dust of many years that had collected just about everywhere, and the clothes on her back. He made her stand there and watch him strip the room clean of anything and everything. He grew great satisfaction in taking away from her and the saddened expression on her face and the tears that fell only made him enjoy punishing her more. She would surely learn not to touch his belongings again.

Now, Erik sensed a small amount of guilt creep into the back of his mind, but he quickly dismissed it. She had violated his privacy by snooping and she deserved her punishment. She got off easy, according to Erik. He was going to make her do something far more horrible, but he felt some pity toward her.

He walked stealthily past her room and stopped and couldn't help, but unlock the door and open it slightly, just out of curiosity. He opened it noiselessly and his eyes fell upon at a small figure that was slumped against the far wall. A lone beam of moonlight shown in through the small window and caressed the girls face and neck as she sat in the corner, obviously asleep.

Erik's eyes ran over her calmed face and down to her enticing and elegant pale neck where they stopped. The moonlight landed on a necklace and made it sparkle most radiantly. Erik adjusted were he stood so he could make out the inscription on it. Cossette it read. He thought for a moment, and then came to the conclusion that Cossette was the young woman's name. He pulled his gaze from her and left her room, but didn't lock it behind him.

Again, that small amount of guilt rose up and harassed him. _Perhaps I was too cruel? No, she must learn…_Erik shrugged the thoughts away and made his way to his small kitchen. As he busied himself with preparing a small meal, he found his mind wondering again. He had completely forgotten about Christine, for now. His primary focus now was the young woman. "Cossette," he mumbled just to hear how it sounded on his own voice. Her name played off of his lips beautifully. "Cossette."

Erik began to slice away at a wedge of cheese and a baguette as his mind continued to roam. Cossette was a de Chagny…Heir to the de Chagny fortune, no doubt. Her life was essentially handed to her and she would never have to lift one of her delicate fingers, but her father had turned her away and pushed her out onto the street. Erik still held a great loathing for the Vicomte, but Cossette was settled in his brain and distracted him. How the Vicomte could force his daughter onto the street was beyond Erik. He sighed heavily and his rhythmic slicing was interrupted and the blade of the knife slipped and he sliced into his palm. He winced at the sudden streak of pain and cursed himself.

The coppery crimson blood oozed out of the gash, from underneath his glove. Erik stared down at it in disbelief, removed the glove, and walked over to the washbasin and submerged his lesion in the cold water. The blood mixed with the water and it turned a dark pink color. After a few minutes, he pulled his hand out, and wrapped it in a small rag and replaced his glove. He would have to restitch his glove later and the slice wasn't all too bad, but his anger rose up anyways. "Damnable women are all the same. A mere distraction at best," he said under his breath.

Gathering the few pieces of cheese and baguette on a small platter, Erik sulked back to his room. He threw himself down at his desk and sat for a few minutes in silence. He dismissed the thoughts of the young woman, which he now knew as Cossette. He ate his small meal slowly and sat there contently, but irritated for some reason unknown to him or rather a reason he didn't wish to think about.

He reached within his jacket pocket and pulled out a small brown bottle of his bourbon and took a lengthy drink of the warming and comforting liquid. He sat staring off into a confusing realm of his thoughts, which began to drift back to a painful past he wish he could forget. He downed the rest of the bottle and became intoxicated almost instantly. His sat there in his drunken state only half conscious of his surroundings. He slumped forward and buried his face in his arms and fatigue took him easily. Perhaps tomorrow would be a better day…

* * *

Poor Erik. Nothing ever seems to go right. Perhaps I am being to cruel towards him? Nah...He likes it. Thanks and reviews!

* * *


	5. Lust

* * *

Don't let the title of this chappy scare you away, my dear readers. I promise nothing vulgar happens. I doubt I will even write anything of the kind, but if I do I promise to warn you first. Enjoy.

* * *

Chapter 5

Lust

A sudden breeze of wind knocked against the shutters creating a thud that woke a startled Erik. He practically jumped up from his desk and winced at the pain of his headache. It would subside shortly, they always did. He had grown almost immune to the after effects of the evil liquid, but the intoxication effect it had was still as effective as ever. Sometimes Erik would think of himself as a coward for using alcohol to escape from his problems and the world in general. He came to think of it as a release instead, but it just provided a temporary escape from his troubled mind. In the end his thoughts flooded back to him and he could never truly escape, but he could hide from them or delay the return and that is what he planned to do. It had worked thus far and he hoped it would continue to. Erik never actually gave in to the thought of drinking himself to death. He could really care less now as it was. He had no purpose, no inspiration, no reason, and no one would care if he lived or not; to hell with everyone else.

Feeling a bit on the filthy side, Erik ambled over to his wardrobe and quickly changed into his usual black apparel and discarded his dark cape. By the time he finished dressing, his headache was gone and he felt better, physically, but mentally he remained lost. He refused to dwell on any thoughts this morning. He strode over to his dingy mirror and adjusted his collar and half-face white mask. He slicked back his graying hair and stared at the indifferent man in the mirror. He frowned at himself then decided to go check on his guest.

Hopefully she had an apology prepared by now, he thought to himself. If he was satisfied with her apology and thought it was sincere he would return what he took away, if he sensed it wasn't… Erik shook his head to clear his thoughts. He stopped at her door and hesitantly opened it slowly so it didn't make a sound. He stood in the doorway and watched the young woman standing as she looked out the window. He could tell by her body language that she was troubled, but she had to atone for her sin before she would receive any sympathy from him.

He became lost staring at her. _Cossette, so young and so beautiful…Just like…No! I will not think on it._ He cleared his throat impatiently to get her attention. He leaned on the door frame and crossed his arms across his strong chest. To his prediction, she jumped as she noticed that she was in his presence. She turned to look at him. Her saddened eyes burned into him, but he remained indifferent and laughed internally that he could still send a sense of fear throughout a person.

The young woman stared at him a moment longer. Erik watched and gathered great humor in watching her face contort different expressions. Her faced looked so pained that he thought he might burst out in laughter and die on the spot, but he had mastered self-control and he remained in his state of indifference. He watched her open her mouth several time as if she were going to speak. Erik started to grow very impatient with her.

"I await your apology," Erik said bluntly.

Her face grew in color and she stepped toward him until she was a good three feet from him. She looked him directly in the eyes and glared at him. "I don't owe you any apology, sir. I haven't done anything wrong and I think you are a most cruel and unfeeling man. I felt sorry for you, but now I'm no so sure," she said boldly.

Erik felt his face grow hot also, but he contained his anger. How dare she raise her voice to him? How dare she claim she did nothing wrong. How dare she! "You most certainly do, my little viper. I may be a cruel old man, but I am not to be pitied by a mere girl such as you. You must be taught to keep your dainty hands off items that don't belong to you," he growled.

"You never said that I couldn't read a book," she shot back. "And I am not a girl."

He dismissed that last part of her jest. _Why does she challenge me? _"I never stated you could either," he shot back.

"I don't even understand why you have some many wondrous books and you never use them. The amount of dust on the bookcases and the book spines themselves is over whelming," she responded as she mimicked his body language by crossing her arms over her chest.

Erik grew annoyed. "I have no desire to immerse myself in books any longer. I found they only distracted me," he said. His face returned to indifference as he stared at her.

She looked at him for a good long moment. She opened her mouth to speak slowly, "I'm sorry for going through your books," she said.

Erik studied her face and came to the conclusion that she meant it and was sincere. He turned to leave, but a small hand on his arm stopped him and he closed his eyes upon her touch then looked down at her.

"You need to learn to control your temper, sir. I say that with all respect, but you overreacted," she scolded.

Her tone reminded him of Madame Jules Giry. She had scolded him always and her motherly ways made him feel somewhat normal, but it had been years since he had seen her; he wasn't even sure if she was alive. He quickly dismissed the thought and looked back at the girl. He simply nodded at her because of his loss of words. He pulled his arm from her and turned to face her completely.

Erik reached out with his gloved hand and his fingers ran a slow trail down her neck and stopped at the necklace. She tensed a little from when the cold leather touched her skin. He took no notice of her reaction and held the small charm with the inscription between his fingers. He released it and his hands fell at his sides. "Cossette, is a very becoming name for you," he simply stated.

She looked at him with a confused expression on her face. "Thank you," she mumbled. Erik could read her thoughts. Yes, he was aware that he had changed his moods so quickly and yes he was aware that he had just sent a chill down her spine without even trying to. Pleased, he turned and walked into the small den.

Erik busied himself by starting a fire. After he had a roaring flame he seated himself in front of it in his favorite chair. He became entranced by the dancing flames. He wasn't sure what was going to become of this bizarre situation and he wasn't sure he wanted it to progress, but he had already taken her in and he would not go back on his word. He was surprised when he looked over to see Cossette had seated herself next to him in the other chair. He didn't even see her enter the room, nor did he hear her. Perhaps he was losing his hearing as well. He shook his head but continued to watch her.

Cossette looked at him and held his gaze. "Why don't you play?" she asked innocently.

Erik frowned and looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "Pardon?"

"The piano," she replied.

He sighed. "I have no inspiration nor want to play that dreaded instrument ever again," he replied sadly.

Erik immediately thought of Christine and their _lessons _as student and teacher. He recalled those many times when Christine first came to the Opera Populaire and he would sing to her in her sleep when she would have those horrid nightmares after her fathers death. Upon hearing his voice, even with her subconscious mind, she would be like putty in his hands.

All of those times he had watched her from afar and then finally revealing himself to her because she practically begged him and he couldn't deny her... The first time he felt her gentle and soft hand on his flesh when he pressed her hand to his face...was all so intoxicating...and when he would touch her soft pale skin...she would succumb to him...The beautiful spell she had over him...The power he had over her...The passion and talent that he had reached and prodded and perfected and molded.

He missed her angelic voice; their beautiful music they made together. Their souls became one as did their last kiss...the one kiss...that love he had been deprived of until that very moment when he let her go... He didn't even notice the single tear that fell down his left cheek.

"Erik, are you alright?" Cossette asked with worry.

He brushed the tear away and his face resumed it's usual expressionless state. "Fine," he said. He looked away from her and kept his attention on a spider web that had accumulated in a corner of the ceiling. He took time while staring at the small distraction to gather himself.

Cossette stood and walked over and knelt down in front of him and touched his arm lightly. "I didn't mean to upset you," she said softly.

Erik shook her arm away. All of this contact was foreign to him and he wasn't sure he was ready to accept it. He hadn't been touched by another human being since his last and first kiss with Christine. _Again, with her! Will this torment never end? My first and last love... _He was still very sensitive to the human touch and he hated himself for it; his weakness. He returned to his depresate state. "Without some goals and some efforts to reach, no man can live," he mumbled. "A useless life is an early death."

"Erik, you must stop this self pity. It is unnecessary. I haven't known you for long, but I can see you just waste your life away sitting here and drinking away your sorrows. I thought you were a brilliant man. What happened to him?" she asked and scolded.

"To live is the rarest thing in the world, most people, including myself only exist. My existence is a twisted joke, my dear. The man who tries to live alone will not succeed as a human being. His heart withers if it does not answer another heart. His mind shrinks away if he hears only the echoes of his own thoughts and finds no other inspiration," he replied indifferently and stared at her. "That man is dead."

"I'm sorry, Erik," she sighed and sat down at his feet and leaned back onto the side of his leg as she stared into the fire. Erik still wasn't sure if he was comfortable with the concept of her touch. Why did she want to touch a monster such as him anyways? _Never underestimate the power of the human touch. _He would never understand it. The human mind remains a mystery to him and always will be. He had spent a great deal amount of time trying to understand, but it was a futile effort.

After a few moments, he let his tensed muscles relax and he watched the embers burn down into a smoldering pile of ashes. He looked down to see that Cossette was looking up at him with her large brown eyes that held a great knowledge and wisdom to them of a woman far beyond her years. This woman was very different and it ate away at him. "What once was is now not anymore," he sighed.

She blinked p at him. "What do you mean?" she asked.

He paused for a moment. "Forget it, dear girl," he said. He felt her lean back onto him again.

For some reason thoughts crept into his mind. Horrible, but sweet thoughts; bittersweet thoughts. Erik's was a man after all and when the young girl gave him the lightest touch it overwhelmed him. He was sensitive to touch, but this was all the more intoxicating then his retched bourbon. It gave him an unexplainable sensation. The thoughts that filled his mind were lustful and he feared he might do something unforgivable.

Erik immediately rose form the chair and startled Cossette. He needed to get away to clear his head. How dare he even think such things? Erik still had never felt the warmth of a woman and all of a sudden this had happened. He practically ran back to his room and closed and locked the door behind him.

He shook his head and pulled at his hair in frustration. No, he could never even think about doing that, but he was. He couldn't corrupt that poor girl. He was old enough to be her father twice. He tried to shake the lustful thoughts from his mind without success; they scared him for good reason. Erik paced over to his desk and pulled out another bottle of bourbon and sat on his bed and downed the entire bottle and waited for the sweet intoxication of alcohol to win over his senses and save him from reality.

* * *

Poor Erik, again. He still is a man after all... Alright enough of that. Thanks, again for reading and reviews are marvelous!

* * *


	6. Breakdown

* * *

I feel very angry with Erik today; he keeps sneaking back into my head! Anyways, I feel like being evil today so...read on.

* * *

Chapter 6

Breakdown

Alcohol is not a kind comrade even though it may suppress the conscious part of one's awareness. It clouds the thoughts and corrupts reality, which is mainly the point and function of it. When inebriated in this vile liquid, one can become swayed to carry out risky and regrettable actions. Depending on one's strength of the mind one may respond differently. Illusions and reality become distorted; one may become utterly violent and cause a scene and even bloodshed. One may also become overpowered by it and succumb to a slight consciousness where everything is lost and unable to function. This is were Erik hides; alcohol is his one of his many masks.

***

Morning had come and Erik hadn't gotten any sleep except for when he was too far intoxicated to stay awake. He lustful thoughts of yesterday were forgotten for now along with thoughts of Christine's death, which was just unthinkable. Denial settled in yet again as he paced around. He had been pacing in his room for about two hours now. He wasn't sure if he could face Cossette after startling her yesterday like that. The best thing he could do was pretend it never happened.

Erik ceased his pacing and walked slowly into the den where he saw Cossette sitting in her usual chair. As he walked in she turned and looked at him with a straight face. She then gave an awkward smile. "Good morning," she greeted.

He simply nodded at her and took his seat next to her. He studied her face as she watched the small fire.

She took a sip of the cocoa she had in her hands and looked up at him. "Did I anger you?" she asked as she stared into her frothy cup of liquid chocolate.

He hesitated then shook his head slowly.

"Then why won't you talk to me?" she persisted.

He stared at her for a long moment. "How is one to live a moral and compassionate existence when one is fully aware of the blood, the horror inherent in life, when one finds darkness not only in one's surroundings but within oneself?" he asked with indifference. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. He felt her staring at him. He knew she wouldn't understand; she could never understand. This was a mistake and now he was falling further into the dark depths of hell then he thought possible and she was only adding to the flames.

"Erik, why do you do this? Why do you torture yourself this way? It hurts to watch," she replied.

"Ignorant woman, I loath my state," he grumbled.

She was offended by what he said. "You sit there and wallow in a sorrowful rut. It doesn't have to be that way," she said. "I can't stand you like this."

He kept his eyes shut unable to look at her. "Then leave," he said bluntly.

"No, I will not leave, Erik," she said with her voice slightly raised.

He opened his eyes and stared at her. "Why do you stay?" he asked in a mocking tone.

"Because…Because you are all I have left," she said sadly. Tears welled in her eyes, but didn't fall.

Erik continued to stare at her. _All she has left? Me? _"That is untrue," he mocked.

Tears began to roll down her pale cheeks. "I do have no one, Erik. I told you my father was a drunkard and never home…He hates me. He blames me. He is the only family I have left and he has shunned me away," she sobbed.

Erik felt compelled to do something, but he wasn't sure what. He didn't like seeing her cry; it broke his heart. _No, not again. I will not be swoon by tears!_ He watched her shake and sob. He then did something bold and that he told himself he would regret later; he stood and knelt down in front of her and took one of her hands in his gloved ones." Do not stain your pretty face with these ugly tears," he said softly.

Cossette looked up at him and nodded. She sniffled a bit before regaining her composure. "Thank you," she said.

Erik released her hand from his light grip and went back to his room and closed the door behind him. He sat down at his desk and buried his face in his hands. This wasn't happening again. He couldn't. He was far too old for this and it made him sick to even ponder the thought. "That's what I am; a sick bastard," he cursed himself. "How can I even think of doing this again?"

His mental barriers where failing. They were crumbling and soon his mind would ambush him with every misery and torture he had never fully faced, but it had always tortured him. He reached into his desk, but there where no more bottles. He checked his pocket; empty. He was desperate for some relief. He searched his room in vain for some source of his fiendish alcohol. He cursed loudly and pounded his fists into the wall; leaving two dents that cracked the plaster. He removed his fists and stared at the indentation he had just made. He groaned in a twisted agony as he fell to the floor and started sobbing silently. He buried his face in his knees.

Erik heard a soft knock on his door. "Is everything alright, Erik?" he heard her ask.

"Go away and leave me be," he growled through his tears and frustration. He heard her soft steps fade.

He didn't want her to see him like this. He was completely venerable and it scared him. The voice of the many monsters inside his head resurfaced and bombarded him all at once. They yelled horrid and grotesque curses and ideas at him. _Kill the girl! You've slain countless for mere pleasure! Taste her blood; the thick salty blood. Feed the monster!_

He shook his head. "Leave me," he begged. "Leave me…"

All of the faces of those whose blood had stained his hands flashed before his eyes. He could taste their fear and he could smell their rotting corpses. All of the voices played and danced in his head. They laughed and mocked him unmercifully, _Devil child, devil child! Come and see the devil's child! _Erik shut his eyes tighter and tried to ignore them, but the intensity of it all only grew with each passing second. _Murderer!_

"No," he hissed back at them.

_Yes, murderer! You murder without a thought and kill all that is good. _

"No, leave me be," he pleaded.

_Mother hated you. She hated her own child! Monster! Her good child died when the devil child infected him!_

Erik's inner battle with himself continued for an eternity. The voices finally left when his mind became to exhausted and he thought he would surely die from the overload; he was reduced to a crumpled mass on the cold wooden floor. He shook violently and clutched his arms around himself.

One would laugh if they saw this once brilliant and strong being reduced to a grown man in the fetal position rocking back and forth on the floor. He was defeated, broken, and alone. He remained like this for quite some time before finally forcing himself to rise.

***

The remainder of the day dragged on and when night finally came Erik left his room and went to the den. As he walked to his chair he glanced at the piano in the corner. He sighed, shook his head, and then sat down. He had given up on music after Christine had left him that final time. There was no inspiration and when she left him there alone in his lair, at the mercy of the mob, she took his music with her. There was no purpose and it no longer brought him any comfort, but caused him pain and misery instead.

Erik crossed one leg over the other and stretched his arms out in front of him, then crossed them across his chest. "Erik?" he heard Cossette call from behind him.

He kept his eyes locked on the mantle. "What?" he asked. He felt her walk closer and he could feel her presence behind him. He felt one small hand rest on his shoulder and he closed his eyes.

"Are you alright?" she asked softly.

"Fine," he replied and shrugged away her hand.

She moved so she stood in front of him and looked directly at him. "You can't keep doing this to me, Erik," she said quietly.

He raised an eyebrow at her. "What am I doing?" he asked.

"You storm off and leave me in the dark. I can help you if you let me in," she said.

Erik frowned at her. "Naïve child, sometimes it is best to stay in the dark," he stated.

"Everybody needs someone," she replied and crossed her arms over her chest.

He shook his head. He couldn't believe her incompetence. "I've been without a companion for the majority of my lonely existence," he replied.

"That is your problem."

"What is?" he asked.

"You won't let anyone in. You hide in the dark where you think it is safe. You won't open up to anyone because you fear that hurt again," she persisted.

Erik knew there was some truth to her words, but he would never admit to that weakness. "Darkness is overwhelming with pain, Cossette, but it is much safer than the light," he said.

She plopped herself down in front of him with her legs crossed. "I will never understand you," she said. "Why did you give up on your music?" she asked innocently.

"Music was my refuge. I could crawl into the space between the notes and curl my back to loneliness. When _she _left she took my music with her," he replied sadly.

"I thought you loved your music," she said.

"That was long ago," he sighed. After a long pause of silence he spoke, "Many people die with their music still in them."

* * *

I feel kind of bad for being so mean to Erik, but it was necessary whether he likes it or not. I like that line: "Many people die with their music still in them." I couldn't help but throw that in the end. Thanks for reading and reviews are ah-mazing!

* * *


	7. Persia

* * *

I decided to resort to a little bit of Leroux's book for this here chappy. Enjoy.

* * *

Chapter 7

Persia

After Erik had returned to the safety of the confines of his room, he laid down upon his bed and rested there with his arms folded behind his head. He then began to question his music. He had given up on it completely since that dreadful knight after _Don Juan Triumphant_. That opera was his entire life's work; his masterpiece. He wrote it specifically for Christine and him to perform together. _The Point of No Return _was the most passionate song he had ever composed. All of the meaning behind the song was entirely his feelings and love that he held for Christine.

As they sang and danced together as one being, he felt Christine melt into him. She had never sang with that much passion and feeling before that. She was able to do so because she was completely intoxicated, as was he, by the touch and the passion that was released during that final performance.

The raging fire he felt during their serenade to one another was most powerful and almost unbarring, but he enjoyed every moment of it. He knew she felt the same way. What came next he would have never expected; he thought she had succumbed to him completely. When he made his last profession of love for her by singing a small piece of _All I Ask of You _he was sure she would save him from his solitude and her love would bring him into the light, but she ripped his mask away…again.

It still was a mystery to him why Christine had betrayed him. He couldn't come up with a possible solution. Her love for him was clear as they performed together. Perhaps that her young lover that Vicomte forced her into it…He could never be sure, but it was clear that she did love that insulate boy…it pained him greatly to admit it…Erik feel into a light sleep as his troubled mind began to tire.

***

Erik awoke the next morning and stretched before rising from the warmth and comfort of his bed. He dressed and cleaned up quickly before heading toward the den. For some reason unbeknownst to him, he was in higher spirits, but his face remained with that same indifference as usual.

As he entered, he saw Cossette was already up. She was sitting in her usual chair that she had silently claimed as her since the first night she was here. As he sat down, she looked over at him and gave him a small but warm smile. "'Morning, Erik," she greeted softly.

"Good morning, Cossette," he replied solemnly.

She donned a black night dress that hugged her form tightly and a light blanket rested on her lap. Her brown curls hung loosely around her shoulders. She looked most beautiful, but Erik tried to pay no attention to her. He turned his head and studied one of the Persian rugs that hung on his walls. It was one of the most colorful works he had acquired from his time that he spent in Persia; it was woven with reds, oranges, and yellows in a lovely diamond pattern.

Cossette looked at Erik and her eyes followed his gaze. "It's beautiful," she said.

Erik looked at her for a moment, then he figured she was talking about the rug. "Why yes it is," he replied. "It is an authentic Persian ceremonial rug."

"Where did you get it?" she asked.

"Persia," he said slightly amused.

She leaned forward. "You went to Persia?"

Erik remembered the time his spent there. It was a beautiful place with beautiful people, but the horrid crimes he had committed there kept him from ever returning. He recalled that he was the Sultan's court magician and later became the executioner. He shuddered at the thought of how he contemplated all of those ways to torture and kill all of those people. He decided to keep the ugly part from her.

"Yes," he replied.

"What was it like? I heard it is very beautiful."

"That it is," he said. "Even though it was mostly desert, it was like a small oasis. The people there are full of culture and are just as colorful as was the place itself. The way the sun made the sand sparkle in the middle of the day was most wonderful, despite the heat waves and occasional sandstorms it is a radiant place," he replied.

"It's sounds wonderful. Would you ever go back?" she inquired.

"No," he said sadly.

The reason he had fled was because of an incident with the palace government, but he wasn't going to tell her that. He then remembered his old friend Nadir, who he referred to as Daroga, but most only knew of him as he slinked around the Opera House as the Persian. His old friend, if you could consider him that, kept Erik from death and Erik was forever in his debt. Nadir had been the chief of police, in a sense, and felt obligated to follow and keep an eye on Erik for whatever reason. Erik grew slightly annoyed when Nadir followed him to Paris and he grew furious with him when he assisted the Vicomte de Chagny into finding his lair as did Mme. Giry. Then a thought donned on Erik. Everyone he had every trusted or was close to, they had all betrayed him in the end.

"Why not?" she asked.

Her question brought him back from his thoughts. "Matters that I don't wish to discuss," he said flatly. His mood was now soured and he stared at his gloved hands that were folded into his lap.

The two sat in silence for a while. This gave Erik a chance to cool down and rid the unwanted thoughts from his mind. He then remembered that he was out of bourbon…He could put that off until tomorrow. He really didn't feel like making the trek into town and it was getting late.

***

Many hours had passed as Cossette tried to create small conversation with Erik, but his mood was soured by the earlier talk of Persia. He answered her with as few words as possible to shrug her off or he completely ignored her. She soon gave up and became involved with a fairytale book that Erik placed in her room. Erik constantly fidgeted with his pocket watch as he stole glances at Cossette when she wasn't looking.

After a while longer, Erik let go of a very heavy sigh and shrunk down even further into his chair. He glanced over at Cossette, who was still reading, and he shook his head. He turned his attention back to the dancing flames in the stood up and stretched her arms above her head and yawned. She set the blanket down on her chair and walked over to Erik. He looked up at her. "Hhhmm?"

"Thank you, Erik," she said quietly.

"Pardon?"

She leaned down closer to him and looked directly into his deep green eyes. He looked back and saw a small amount of graciousness and appreciation there. "For taking me in," she replied.

"Ah," was all he managed to say. He eyed her for a moment longer then she stood up straight and walked toward the kitchen.

"Goodnight, Erik," she said.

Erik sat still for a few moments then stared back into the dying fire. "Goodnight, Cossette," he mumbled to himself. He glanced over his shoulder at the piano sitting in the corner and mumbled something else. He sighed and became mesmerized by the flames once again.

* * *

My apologizes on how short this chappy turned out to be. Reviews and thanks.

* * *


	8. Cicero

* * *

This is the second chappy I put out today so be thankful, my dear readers. I honestly didn't think I would get so many hits on this story. Thanks everyone! It's kind of short, but it's fun.

* * *

Chapter 8

Cicero

Several hours had passed and all was quiet except for the occasional crack of the burning wood that lay in the minimal hearth. Erik hadn't moved from his seat in the old wooden arm chair, and he grew very--dare he say bored and…lonely. Yes, he felt horribly lonely. He didn't understand why he felt so lonely all of the sudden. He had been alone for the majority of his sad life that he spent in solitude. Perhaps he was turning senile? No, that wasn't it. He shook his head. "Everything has to be so damned complicated," he said to himself.

"Oh, Cossette…" He shook his head again when he realized he spoke her name out loud. No matter how he wanted to deny it, he enjoyed Cossette's company. For some reason he felt she was very easy to converse with and make light conversation with. He also found it odd that he had opened up to her so much. He wasn't sure what had possessed him to do so, but he did. He also thought it very odd that she thanked him for taking her in. No one had ever thanked him for anything, and it was a good feeling knowing that he was appreciated for something.

The former Opera Ghost let a small almost-smile crease his lips. He had deeply regretted letting Cossette stay at first, but now he was having second thoughts about not letting her leave, ever. His smile disappeared when he thought about her wanting to leave. She would want to eventually; when she found somewhere else to go. This saddened him deeply. He didn't want to let her go and he didn't plan to let her slip through his fingers.

A heavy sigh escaped him. He grew even more restless. He couldn't take just sitting here in the dark anymore. He stood up and smoothed his jacket and adjusted his mask. He walked to the coat rack near the door and grabbed his cloak and wrapped it around his shoulders and pulled the hood up. He stopped for a moment to debate on whether or not to leave Cossette alone. She will be fine, he thought.

Opening the door and stepping into the cold nighttime air he shivered slightly from the cold wind that whipped at his face. He glanced up at the heavens; stars were scarce and it was a new moon. He pulled he cloak around himself tighter in a futile attempt to shield himself from the icy wind.

Walking to the small stable, Erik whistled loudly and an impressive looking black stallion galloped obediently toward him and stopped directly in front of him. The beast was as tame as its master and just as wild. It held great stamina and agility and any man would be proud to own such a magnificent specimen.

It was lean, but built with much muscle and its coat gleamed even with the absence of moonlight. Erik stroked its neck thoughtfully before mounting. He pulled the reins gently and patted it's neck. "Easy, Cicero," he said to the great beast, which let out a low whiney in response. He urged Cicero slowly onto the dark path and headed toward town.

Erik had acquired Cicero only a decade ago. His previous horse, which was named Caesar had passed from old age. He felt a great grief when he had to let Caesar go…He was the first horse he had ever had. Erik had taken Caesar from the Opera House's stables and had kept him down in the cellars of it, close to the gates of his lair. It was a great white stallion and he missed it, but he now had Cicero.

He had bought Cicero off a Hungarian man that happened to be passing through the market one day. As soon as Erik laid his eyes on the horse he had to have it and wouldn't take no for an answer. The man didn't show in interest in selling Cicero, at first. Erik haggled with him and finally won over Cicero for a large amount, but it was worth it to Erik.

Far off in the distance, the lights of the great city of Paris had all died down, save for a few street lamps. Erik dug his heels into Cicero's sides, who quickened his pace to a full on sprint. Under the moonless and starless sky, Erik and his horse moved silently and stealthfully down the deserted streets of Paris. The two were completely invisible against the darkness of the night.

They rounded a corner and Erik pulled back hard on the reins. Cicero stopped immediately. In one graceful motion Erik dismounted and strode over to the nearest shop; the wines and spirits vendor's. The wooden sigh read _Beaumont's_.

The small brewery was obviously closed and locked up for the night, but that didn't stop Erik. He walked up to the door and pulled out a small hairpin, which he found very useful, and expertly picked the lock and slipped in silently. He moved around the shop quietly and unseen grabbing three bottles of bourbon and a bottle of red wine that he thought Cossette might like. He stopped to double think why he cared what Cossette might like then dismissed it. He slipped out just as quickly as he had slipped in. He put the bottles in Cicero's saddlebags and mounted the tamed beast once again and spurred him toward home.

Erik wasn't a thief, far from that in fact. He left a good sum of bills on the counter; much more than was necessary. Even though he had been out of work he still had all of that money that he accumulated over the years from the managers at the Opera Populaire.

He was no financial cripple; 20,000 francs a month was a very decent salary.

The sun was just starting to break the horizon as he came upon his cottage. Erik drove Cicero up to the front of the house, dismounted him, grabbed the bottles, and walked in through the door.

He held his precious alcohol in on arm while he hung up his cloak with the other. He turned to see that Cossette had fallen asleep in her chair again. He stopped to stare at her for a second then headed to the kitchen and stored the wine and bourbon in a dark cupboard.

With nothing else to do he walked back into the den and stared at Cossette sleeping. A few stray curls fell over her pale face. She looked so peaceful that Erik became lost in her sleeping beauty. In seeing her shiver slightly he grabbed the blanket that was draped over his chair and covered her up with it. As he pulled it up to her chin his glove grazed her side and arm ever so gently. He then brushed back the few stray curls that fell over her eyes.

Erik stared at her thoughtfully for a moment then walked slowly over to his seat and turned his chair so he faced her. He observed her small chest rise and fall as she breathed. He wondered what was happening to him. He couldn't be thinking of becoming involved with her; it was out of the question, but there was no harm in taking great pleasure in her company though. He shook his head and frowned at himself for even hoping that they could become more than just acquaintances. He watched her sleep for a small while before her soft and even breathing lulled him to sleep as well.

* * *

I hope Erik behaves himself. Haha. Thanks for all the feedback! Keep those reviews coming!

* * *


	9. Requests

* * *

I am terribly sorry that it has taken me so long to update. I've been busy lately and I haven't the time nor the inspiration to write. So here you go... Thank you to all of my readers and reviewers! I appreciate it, as does our dearest Erik. He bids you all well. Teehehehe. This chappy is somewhat interesting. Read on my loyal subjects...read on.

* * *

Chapter 9

Requests 

Erik spent most of the day in his room repairing his ripped or damaged articles of clothing. He had made a hasty trip into town to purchase the necessary groceries and other items. One of Cicero's shoes had fallen off on the way back and Erik had to replace it, which wasn't an easy job.

***

Within the last hours of evening a small stream of the remaining sunlight filtered through the bulky burgundy drapery that hung inside of the den. It created a small amount of light and brightened the usual gloomy and dark atmosphere of the room. The roaring fire in the small hearth had died down to a small flicker of orange flame that would expire any minute.

The little bit of light that rested on Erik face woke him. He opened his eyes sleepily and blinked at the intruding luminosity. He rose swiftly and adjusted the heavy curtains so that no light could invade into his dark abode. He preferred his dark and that is where he wanted to stay for it was much safer than that of the light or so he thinks.

Turning on his heel, Erik saw that Cossette was still sleeping soundly. He watched her for quite some time. She was curled up in _her_ chair with a blanket that hung loosely around her. She looked so peaceful like a petite brunette angel. He sighed and tore his eyes from her and sat back down in his chair and watched the last remaining flame die completely and turn to a small pile of smoldering black ashes.

He looked over his shoulder at the old piano in the corner, which mocked and teased him, but he wouldn't dare touch it let alone play it again. He didn't even understand why he hadn't destroyed the damned instrument. He never touched it nor even thought of doing so until now. He shook his head and was interrupted by a soft incoherent sound.

Erik turned to look at a still sleeping Cossette. It appeared that she was talking in her sleep. He stared at her and listened intently. He could make out some of the gibberish and mumbling. "Tell me about the angel of music, mother," she mumbled softly. He became slightly amused by her small request. "Will he sing, mommy? Will he sing for us?" she asked in her dreamlike stupor.

"His music has long since deserted him," Erik said more to himself and frowned.

Cossette's face contorted to a small pout and her lower lip protruded slightly making Erik chuckle internally. She really looked like a child to him now despite being at the adult age of twenty-two. "Will you send me an angel one day, mother?" she asked.

Erik decided to humor the subconscious part of her mind and she probably wouldn't remember this anyway so he thought there would be no harm in it. He walked over to her and his tall dark form loomed over hers. He brushed back the stray brown locks that fell over her face ever so gently. "There is no angel of music," he said softly.

She let out a small sigh and frowned. "There is…an angel of music, mother. You told me…" she mumbled back.

Erik pondered the thought that perhaps Christine had told her… She was dreaming of a conversation she had with her mother most likely when she was very young, he thought. "Tell me of the angel," he inquired.

A small smile creased her plump red lips. "He sings and plays beautiful music…"

Erik knelt next to her and brushed her cheek with the back of his gloved hand. "His music is gone, my dear," he whispered sadly.

"No, his music…," her voice drifted off.

Erik sat where he was and continued to listen to her mumble and mutter things about the angel of music and her mother. He had never observed such a thing before. He found it odd that her subconscious was thinking of the so-called angel of music. He then wondered what Christine had told her, (he still denied that Christine was deceased). He wondered if Christine had only told her the story of the so-called Angel of Music that her father had promised her. Did Cossette know that that _angel _she spoke of was Erik?

Erik listened to her draw in breath and then release it slowly. Her lips were parted ever so slightly in the most enticing way imaginable. He observed her small chest rise and fall in a rhythmic motion.

After a few more moments of watching her, he had to force himself from the spot where he knelt so he didn't do something regrettable and he knew he would if he remained there any longer.

As he stood, somehow he twisted around awkwardly and tripped on his cape and nearly fell. He silently cursed himself as he heard a startled Cossette stir.

Smoothing his cape, he turned to look at her. She looked startled and sat upright and pulled the blanket up around her small form again. "What are you doing?" she asked slightly confused and still fighting away her sleepiness.

Erik felt a little awkward and he didn't want to tell her he had been watching her sleep and that they had a conversation…well, sort

of. That would surely be odd to admit and she might think it very strange for him to do so. He racked his brain for an explanation and said the first thing that came to mind. "Fixing the, er …fire," he managed to get out lamely. He cursed himself internally for his incompetence. _Kill me now. _

She stared at him with a questionable expression then sighed in acceptance of his answer. She sat back a bit and closed her eyes as she pulled the blanket tightly around her. She opened her eyes to glance at Erik, who hadn't moved from the spot where he stood, then closed them again.

Feeling out of place, Erik turned and slowly walked away from her and toward his room. Her small voice stopped him. He stopped but didn't turn around. He felt her eyes on his back and it made him uncomfortable. "Where are you going?" she asked innocently.

He turned to look at her. She was standing and had discarded the blanket so she was only wearing her black nightdress, which clung to her slender and feminine form. He forced himself to look past her for the fear of drinking in her intoxicating beauty. "I have work to attend to," he lied. He needed to distance himself from her quickly and he knew it.

"Oh…I see," she said disappointedly.

Erik stopped and raised his left eyebrow while studying her face. "Do you need something?" he inquired as he crossed his arms across his chest.

Cossette shook her head.

"I will retire to my room then," he said. Erik turned and started walking toward the hall.

"Erik?"

He stopped and turned back to look at her. "Cossette?"

She slowly walked toward him and stopped a safe three feet from him. "I have a favor to ask…a request really."

* * *

Again, my sincerest apologizes for taking so long to update. Now I better get on updating my other few fics...Ugh. I have my work cut out for me. Thanks for reading and reviewing.

* * *


	10. Giggles

* * *

I feel like Erik gave me a shot of his damnable morphine while I was sleeping...Ugh...My head. This here chappy is almost "Tardness" worthy. I felt that I needed some funny and relief from Erik's "aaaarrrggghhh". Not that there is anything wrong with it...Haha. Me + On Drugs = Stupid/Random Chappy of DOOM!!!!!???

* * *

Chapter 10

Giggles 

An awkward air settled between the two. The only sound was the soft breathing of Cossette as she awaited Erik's response. Erik studied her face as he tried to see and prepare himself for what she would ask for…her request… As always, his mind thought the worst possible scenarios. _She wants to depart and leave this monster to sit in his dark solitude once again._ He took a moment to gather himself and crossed his arms across his chest. "What does _my_ guest require?" he asked.

Cossette stepped a little closer to him, which caused him to take one step back for the fear of being too close to her. "_Your _guest would like to request another place to sleep besides that horridly uncomfortable chair…" As her voice trailed off she stared at the floorboards.

Erik had mentally prepared himself for some ungodly and ridiculous demand or some type of rejection, but instead he was met with a rather simple and understandable request. The only problem with her request was there was only one bed left and it was _his_, in _his_ room…He had stripped the small closest-sized room, which would have been the guest room, of everything within the first few nights of her stay. Because of his temper, he had destroyed the items and now it was bare and she had slept in _her _chair since.

His mind raced, full of thoughts...Most of them very suggestive thoughts. Erik would not emit it, even to himself, that he had had thoughts of himself and Cossette…together. He knew it would have happened eventually, but he would deny it in vain. He was far too old to become involved with this young woman and he knew it. He hadn't the need nor want of women in his lonely existence except for Christine, but she left him and choose that insolate fop of a boy instead. _There was no other and there will never be any other. _Christine was his first and last love. However tragic, it had been sweet while it lasted…

Erik was brought back from his confusing, but brilliant mind when he felt himself exhale sharply after realizing he had been holding his breath and Cossette was babbling on about something.

"Erik? Did you hear what I said?" she asked as she mimicked him by crossing her arms over her small chest. Erik shook his head slowly. She sighed. "It's not that big of a deal, really. If it's too much I have no problem sleeping in that chair. It's just that I don't like it much--well I do. Don't take it the wrong way, but my neck gets really stiff and--"

Erik brought his gloved finger to her lips to silence her. "But, Erik," she mumbled against his finger.

"Be silent," he commanded and his hand dropped back to his side. He immediately regretted the tone of his voice; it was demanding and intimidating and most unnecessary. She nodded and stared up at him. He observed her posture change and it looked as though she was bracing herself for an explosion of some sort. _Temper, temper, monsieur. _The little voice in his head mocked him. He forced it from his mind with great difficultly and looked down at Cossette who must have moved closer as he fought the inner battle within stared up at him with pleading eyes that could make any man's heart break or melt on the spot, but Erik had grown immune to such things. He mistook it for sadness instead.

When he finally found words he spoke, "Mademoiselle, my apologizes for not having a more suitable sleeping place for you," he said.

"Oh, that's fine," she said. He could sense the disappointment in her voice.

"But it won't do," he said.

She looked back up at him. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"I have been a very rude host. I am to put my guest before myself, but I have done the opposite. My sincerest apologizes, again," he said. He then turned and began to slowly walk towards his room.

"Erik?" she called to him.

He stopped and turned back to look at her. "Yes?" he asked.

"Well?" she asked.

"Well?" he echoed.

"You ignored my request," she said.

"I did not," he replied.

"Where am I to sleep?" she asked again.

"I figured you would follow," he replied.

She placed a hand over her mouth and gasped. "Erik! You didn't think that I meant--to, er…How could you!" she yelled.

He raised his visible eyebrow and quickly closed the distance between them. He glared at her from behind his mask. "What exactly are you accusing me of?" he shot.

"You know very well what I-I am accusing you of," she shot back as she placed her hands on her hips.

"I'm actually quite lost, Mademoiselle," he retorted. His green eyes burned into her brown orbs.

"Insufferable man! How dare you! How can you even dare to think that I meant _that_ by asking for somewhere else to sleep."

He stared at her long and hard. _What is she referring to?_Then it donned on him and he nearly fell over. "You think that I would intrude on you in such a fashion, dear girl? I wouldn't even think it," he replied, his tone was much calmer now, but he felt himself blush with the possible thought that Cossette thought he wanted her to sleep with _him_ in _his_ bed.

Cossette adverted her eyes to the Persian rug that hung on the wall behind Erik. There was an even longer silence as the two stared each other down, waiting for the other one to break first. Erik glared at her and she finally looked at him and held his gaze.

It seemed like an eternity as the two glared at each other. Erik was growing tired of the moronic game that they were playing and opened his mouth to speak, but before he could get any words out. Cossette's frown turned into a small smile and she began to giggle. Being an old grumpy man _(Teehehehe)_,Erik stared at her indifferently. "You find something of amusement here?" he asked grumpily and his gaze didn't soften.

Cossette continued her giggling, which angered Erik, which made her laugh harder, which angered and frustrated him further because he didn't understand why she was laughing to begin with. He was completely lost and oblivious to what she found so funny and in turn he thought that Cossette was mocking him. "I see that you are incapable of conversing at the moment. Perhaps another time, I will not be mocked by a mere girl in my own house," he growled and shot her an icy glare before turning and stalking of toward his room.

As soon as he laid a gloved hand on his door, a small hand touched on his arm. He turned and glared at Cossette who now looked quite serious despite the fact that she was almost in tears from laughing only a few moments ago. "You've come to laugh at me once again?" he spat.

Cossette looked him directly in the eye. "I wasn't laughing at you, Erik," she said.

"No?" he asked and that usual indifference settled in on his features.

"No. I was laughing because I…well…how stubborn we both are," she replied.

He shrugged her arm away. "I see…," he mumbled. He was still confused as to why their little quarrel was so "funny". He found nothing funny about it, not even the slightest hint of hilariousness. _She is as odd child indeed._

Erik turned his back to her and placed his hand on his door once again. "I think it's time you _go_ to sleep," he said, gesturing back to the den. He didn't want her near him; he felt annoyed with her mere presence.

"But--"

"_Now_," he hissed and without another word he stormed into his room and slammed the door in her face and locked it behind him. Erik's sudden change in demeanor was nothing new. He was confused and puzzled as to why he was so angry, which made him even more angry and frustrated with himself. He had himself convinced that Cossette had mocked him and his blood continued to boil. _How dare she!?_

_

* * *

_

Oh, dearest Erik...Quit acting like a four-year-old with the tantrums! My God... You're lucky you're so damn sexy or these mood-swings would get very annoying and I would have to strangle you with that damnable Punjab lasso of yours...Muahahaha...Blame the morphine...Teehehehehehe...My head feels funny. I'm gonna go take a nap.

* * *


	11. Alone

* * *

I'm rather depressed today...as is Erik. Sometimes hope just isn't enough. Just read...

* * *

Chapter 11

Alone

Three days… Three long, miserable, and lonely days had dragged on for a eternity and passed with the most agonizing slowness possible. Three days of solitary confinement and isolation spent in the dank and dark quarters of his room. Three days without consumption of food and the luxury of sleep. Three days of utter nothingness that he would never get back…all of those lost moments and all of those many years were lost along with the three days. Three days it had been since he last laid eyes or even heard the girl, Cossette. Three days it had been, but he hadn't thought of her. Three days it had been since he had forgotten of her presence in his dark abode. No, in those three days he was distracted by thoughts of his former and only love; none other then Christine Daaé.

There, at his desk, the shell of the former phantom, musician, architect, composer, and magician sat slumped staring blankly at the wall. After all he had done, after all he had accomplished, after all he had tried so hard for, after everything he had ever worked for…it was gone. Everything he ever dreamed, ever contemplated, ever loved, ever hoped, thought, composed, built, designed…it was all gone; like dust in the wind. It was all ripped so brutally away from him and he could do nothing to stop it from happening.

No longer did the crafty and frightening Opera Ghost exist. No, that phantom is far gone and never to return. As the genius and so-called angel is gone, too. All of his former self: gone. When you take all that away, you are left with a harmless fifty-four-year-old man that no one would even give a second glance or thought. All that is left is an empty carcass without a purpose or soul, who has rotted away and mellowed out into nothing; harmless as a common house fly. That former being is gone and left an unfeeling old man in it's place; a broken man…

A large sigh escaped the man seated at his desk. He looked up at the ceiling as if he were looking for something or someone; perhaps a higher being? _Why me? _The words seemed to replay over and over again in his mind: _Why me? _

Why Erik? Why him? Why did his mother shrink away from her own son? Why did she force him to wear a mask; his first real scrap of clothing? How could a mother abuse her child and deprive him of that love that every child want and needs? Why when he ran away did he come upon a band of gypsies who beat him and extorted him for their own gain? The devil child, they called him and beat him for their sick and grotesque sideshow. _Come see the Devil's child. Do come and see!_ Why was his master a sick and twisted pervert? Why was Erik subject to this? Why was he forced to kill his master and then escape?

After all of the torture was finally over and he had escaped it…after Persia…after all the deaths of many others at his hands did he finally find refuge and comfort (in a sense) at the Opera Populaire. It became his artistic domain and his rein over his castle brought him a sense of purpose and a small sense of the life he was missing.

Then that fateful day, when Christine Daaé appeared for the first time. She was just a child…a beautiful and talented child, an orphan none the less. He had observed and watched her from afar and helped her (even though she may not have been aware of it at time) through some of her most horrid struggles and parts of her life; from her fathers death to the petty things. He had guided her, molded her, and released that untapped passion that could only be reached by him and him alone. Her soul had once belonged to him…and his to her.

Erik had no purpose…Nothing to live for without his angel of music. He needed her much more than she needed him. She made him feel normal. Well, not completely, but she excepted him for what he was. She showed him that he wasn't alone, but in the irony of it all she did in fact leave him alone to become shrouded in his dark abyss once again. He loved her more than any other had loved any one else. He would have done anything and everything just to see her smile and make her happy. She was supposed to be his living wife…

Alas, Christine Daaé was…dear he even think it? _My dearest, my only angel of music has grown her wings and left to soar to heaven, while I sit in this never ending hell to burn for all eternity, alone. _Erik finally was allowing himself the pain of the thought of Christine's death. Her rejection and refusal had almost kill him the first time. Without knowing she was somewhere in the world living a happy life kept him somewhat sane and gave him the little bit of strength to live. Without her he had nothing.

Erik felt the tears, but they wouldn't come. He was all dried up and there was nothing he could do. He slowly reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a small chain. On the end of the chain was the ring Christine had given to him. He held it in front of his face and examined it thoroughly. It was as beautiful as the day she gave it to him…that night of betrayal.

He stared at it in disbelief. After all of these years, Christine was dead and this was all he had left to her. He closed his eyes tightly at the welling tears that wouldn't fall. His hand grasped tightly around the chain and ring as he felt a dull pain shoot up his arm causing him to shake violently. He clenched his jaw and the pain came again, but stronger. Erik put his hand to his chest and jerked violently to the point that he fell out of his chair and onto the cold wooden floor. The pain shot throughout his chest and up his arm again. Erik clutched Christine's ring to his chest as he felt his strength leave him.

The pain came in one last wave that rendered Erik motionless and cold. His dark form had become a crumpled mass…on the cold floor…in his dark room…alone.

* * *

Poor, poor, poor Erik...Poor me. I think I'm going to cry...I need a moment. Reviews, savvy?

* * *


	12. Death

* * *

Erik! Nooooooo! Don't go towards the light!

* * *

Chapter 12

Death

One can become easily lost in the fantasy world of unconsciousness and give into its dark abyssal veil and become easily just as lost from reality and never return. That makes one wonder what may lie inside of the subconscious human mind. We are forever thinking, the mind forever racing even though we are not aware of it. It never ceases activity. It is always thinking of thoughts that one might find repulsive, beautiful, instinctual, desirable, animalistic, or even possibly the thoughts of things that once were…regrets, perhaps? Whatever the case you are thinking of things you aren't even aware of at this very moment. The mind is very complex.

Let us return to Erik's mind. His vast mind is much more complex than the average human mind. Being a gifted musician he has reached other parts of his mind that others haven't. The reason people get lost in thought is that it is unfamiliar territory. The reason for Erik's insomnia is a self-conflict that is buried within his subconscious. He creates mental masks and blocks what he doesn't want to face out of his conscious mind so it buries itself, but it is still there and it haunts him in the way of depriving his sleep.

The mind is a powerful thing. Erik suffers from insomnia due to his internal conflicts. As for his eating habits, he rarely consumes any substance of food because of his self conflicts that dominate his mind and distracts him, but he remains healthy. Would you call Erik healthy? Definitely not. Physically he may appear strong and fit, but he is actually very ill. His body is weak and tired. He lacks the nutrition he needs and deprives himself of it. He has convinced himself that he doesn't need it and consuming food is a unnecessary luxury. He will only allow himself the smallest of morsels only when it is dire.

His heart, his heart aches for another and it bleeds an endless river of crimson blood that corrupts his soul. That very same distortion is what makes him mentally unstable; you recall his abrupt changes in demeanor? He has never learned to control his emotions. He longs to be in control of everything, but he can't even control himself…

***

Slowly, ever so slowly he stumbled toward the weeping willow with his lasso in hand. _Life isn't worth living alone._ He halted and stood before the ugly tree. He started to shake subconsciously as fear and a twisted sense of relief flooded his mind. He tightened his grip on his trusty lasso and those dry tears threatened to fall, but didn't come. He stared up to the sky, which had been taken over by melancholy storm clouds.

Those tears that wouldn't fall stung in his eyes. He looked down at the lasso in his hand and then back at the tree and the tears finally came. The tears filled his eyes and ran down from behind his mask and fell silently to the ground. "Without you, I cannot go far or rise high," he choked out. "I am but an angel with one wing…"

He took the lasso in both of his hands and cradled it as if it were some priceless vase. A luminous white light appeared and surrounded the willow. He heeded it's warning and worked quickly. He tossed the lasso over one of the branches and secured it in place. He paused and held the noose in his gloved hands. An anguished cry escaped him. It sounded demonic and somewhat feral…

He climbed to one of the low branches and paused. He hesitated with the noose in his hands. He looked back to the sky. "I'm coming, my love. Soon we'll be together, soon. I promise," he said just above a whisper.

***

A sharp pain brought Erik back from his fantasy, it shot through Erik's arm again and subsided. His eyes fluttered open and he found he couldn't move. He blinked and glanced around in the dimness. He was still in the darkness of his room…It had been a dream…but he had been on the floor he had fallen…he remembered…the sharp pain in his chest…

"Erik?"

He heard the soft voice from somewhere in the darkness of his room. He tried to form words, but his voice betrayed him. He tried to raise himself but he fell and winced at a harsh pain in his chest. He then felt a small hand resting on his arm. He opened his eyes again and could make out the face of Cossette. He then shut them again. _Cossette. _

The hand gripped his arm tightly, but not to the point of pain but tightly. "Erik? Are you alright?" He heard her soft coo and her voice shook slightly.

As he opened his eyes again he could see that tears stained her face and she looked sick with…was it worry? Erik found enough strength to speak, "Cossette?" he answered.

"Oh, Erik," she cried and buried her face in his shoulder. He felt her sobbing against his shoulder. He wanted to raise an arm and comfort her, but he hadn't the strength to do so. Her small sobs racked her body and she soaked his jacket. After she had ceased her sobbing she moved back and knelt next to him.

Erik watched her as she looked at him. "I thought I lost you, Erik," she said. Her voice still wavered.

He was shocked by her words. She was crying for him…she pitied him. _"I thought I lost you, Erik," played in his head several times. Why would she care? _

The sadness in her brown eyes were soon taken away by relief, he observed. His breathing came in hard and shallow rasps. "Cossette…" he mumbled.

She leaned closer to his face so they were only a few inches apart. "Erik?" she asked with worry as she grabbed his gloved and hand and held it.

"I-I am…dying," he rasped.

Tears began to fall down her face again. "No. Don't say that. You'll be alright," she said and squeezed his hand.

"No, Cossette. I am and I want to," he replied and closed his eyes.

"Erik, stop it. Just stop it. You will be alright. You're not dying!" she cried at him and squeezed his hand.

"Sshhh. I am dying, my dear. It cannot be helped. I've been ready for this day for a very long time," he said and then went into a horrible coughing fit. After it subsided, he looked back at Cossette she had paled and was crying silent tears again. "Do not cry, Cossette. Do not cry for me. I want this," he said. "I want this," he repeated.

"No, Erik. It's not your time," she said angrily. She moved herself up beside him and clung to him. She buried her face in his chest and sobbed. "Erik, you're not dying. You will get better and--and…"

Erik had wrapped one arm around the sobbing girl and held her to him. "Don't cry, Cossette. Don't stain your pretty face with these ugly tears," he mumbled into her hair.

She pulled back from him just enough to stare into his deep green eyes. "I refuse to let you go," she said.

"You must. It's meant to be this way," he replied.

She shook her head. "No it's not! I'm not losing you, Erik," she wailed and pressed herself into him again. She clutched his jacket in her fists and pressed her face into his chest. "You're not leaving me, Erik. You will stay here with me," she begged.

He brought his other arm up and wrapped them around her gently. "Please don't cry, Cossette," he coaxed. He gently stroked her hair. "Why do you cry?" he asked.

She lifted her head from his chest. "Because, Erik… I don't want you to go," she sniffled.

He was still confused as to why she even bothered with him. Why she was clinging to him for dear life puzzled him, but a man's dying mind doesn't have time for such thoughts. "Why?" he rasped.

"Oh, Erik. Don't you think that someone could care about you even in the slightest bit?" She paused and regained control of her sobs. "Erik, you are my world. You are all I have left and you will _not_ leave me," she said.

_Her world? Cossette…Dear girl why torture yourself this way? I wish to die in peace so I may rejoin my beloved in death. _"You don't know of what you speak," he said. "How can someone care--"

"About a monster?" she finished for him.

He stared at her with wide-eyes. "Now Cos--"

"No, Erik. You are not a monster. You are a damn good man whether you want to hear it or not. Sure you have some character flaws, but don't we all?" she argued.

Erik stared at her sullenly and didn't reply.

"Well say something, Erik," she demanded.

He finally found his voice again, "I've lived a life full of misery and hate, I've dreamt of being loved and safe…"

* * *

*Cries* I know you all want to stab my eyes out... I'm killing Erik and I don't like it...ugh. Reviews, eh?

* * *


	13. Grim

* * *

I am sad to admit, but I am emotionally attached to my characters. I almost cried and you all will probably kill me...I want to kill me with Erik's Punjab lasso right now. I am such a horrible authoress!

* * *

Chapter 13

Grim

"I know your life has been…horrid and that you were deprived of a normal and happy life, Erik, but it doesn't have to end like this."

He opened his mouth to protest, but she cut him off.

"You dreamt? No you dream, Erik. It's not over. You _can _be loved and safe. You just need to let somebody under that mask of yours," she persisted.

"I wish not to argue with you, Cossette. Leave me in peace," he replied and closed his eyes. He felt her bawl her fists up in his jacket and lean into him again.

"My poor Erik," she mumbled against his shirt.

"I don't want your pity," he groaned. "Leave me alone." He hadn't the strength to push her away no matter how badly he wanted to. His breathing became slightly shallower by ever passing minute. He felt weaker and tired. "Cossette, grant a dying man his wish and leave me in peace," he mumbled.

She removed her head from his chest and looked at him. Erik was usually on the pale side, but now he looked sickly, almost skeletal. His half-face white mask was slightly out of place; not enough to see an of his marred side, but was loose, and his appearance that was usually neat was completely out of place and messy; very unlike him. "I can't," she said and laid her head back down on his chest and looked up at him with sorrowful eyes.

Erik opened his eyes and looked down at her. He had another coughing attack and sighed heavily after he recovered from it. "Cossette, you will never understand…"

She looked up at him and tears began to poor down her cheeks again and splash onto his shirt. "If only you'd let me in, Erik. I could help you," she sobbed.

Erik was growing very tired of arguing and he could feel his end coming. "You…say that it's not over…that I need to let someone in…that someone cares…name one person, one person that cares for this empty carcass," he rasped.

"I care, Erik," she replied as she moved closer to him and nestled herself against him.

Erik rested his with his eyes closed. "Why are you doing this, Cossette?" he asked.

She gently brushed a stray lock of graying black hair back from his face. "Because I care about you, Erik. I care a great deal about you. I don't know what I'd do without you," she replied sincerely.

Erik looked down at her and took her small hand in his. "You are young. You have your whole life ahead of you. You will live your life to the fullest," he said. Cossette had started sobbing again against his chest. He wrapped one arm around her. "And you will get married to an intellectual and handsome young man. You will wed and become a mother to beautiful children. You will live in a luxurious mansion and never want," he coaxed. "You will live a happy life, my dear. If not for yourself, live it for me."

"No, no, no. Erik, I can't. I won't be able to. I refuse," she balled.

"And why ever not?" he asked.

"Because--because I don't want to marry a young man. I don't want to wed and I don't want children." She paused and looked up at him. "I want to stay with you, Erik."

Erik almost choked on the air he was breathing. He felt faint and dumbstruck. His breath quickened and he had trouble speaking. "What…did you…?"

"I don't want to go with anyone else, Erik. I want to stay with you," she replied. She looked up at him with her large brown eyes.

Erik shut his to escape her the only way he knew how. _How dare she say that? Why would she want me? I could be her father twice over! _"Dear child, it cannot be so. My time will expire soon and you have no need for me. If you want this house, it is yours. I only ask that you take care of Cicero for me and tell no one of the angel in hell," he said. "I have enough finances and I will give them to you, my dear…"

She frowned and looked down. "I don't want any of those things, Erik. I want you."

He coughed and cleared his throat. "I am old enough to be your grandfather….why would you want me, Cossette? You are young and beautiful…I am an old scarred man…"

"But you are a kind and gentle man, Erik. You are smart, caring, a little unbearable at times, but you are an amazing man," she said.

"You're the only one who seems to think so," he replied.

"I know so," she said. He raised his eyebrow questioningly. "I know you are a good man, Erik. You may not think that I know, but I do."

"What--"

"You are a kind man, Erik. A good man, just misunderstood," she interrupted.

He shook his head. "You are wrong, Cossette," he said. "You know not of which you speak," he mumbled.

She snuggled into him. "Oh, I do, Erik. I know very well. I know somewhere in that genius mind of yours that there is a gentle being who loves his music. He misses it and he misses his art. That man is still there somewhere in that brilliant mind of yours," she said.

Erik stiffened his muscles upon her closeness. "Cossette, you flatter me, but he is no more," he said gravely. He muffled a cough in his sleeve.

"He is there, Erik. I've seen him," she said. She smoothed his hair behind his ear and it soothed him somewhat.

He closed his eyes and inhaled sharply. "You were mistaken… Death hangs it's dark head over me. It's almost time, Cossette," he whispered.

"I was not and you aren't dying," she said firmly. "I won't let you."

"Oh, Cossette…if only you knew…" he sighed heavily and closed his eyes.

"Erik?" she called to him. "Erik, what must I do to make you want to live? Don't give into death. What happened to the fearless phantom?"

"I have no purpose…nothing to live for…all that I have loved has been ripped away from me…" Erik mumbled and his breathing was like a soft whisper.

Cossette sat up and leaned over him. "What I am then? Do I not matter to you?" she asked.

Erik could feel her breath on his face. This was it. He couldn't believe he was going to admit it to her, but he did care…he cared for her deeply. "Cossette, you are…you are…I-I…" Erik tried to finish, but his breathing faltered and he started a coughing fit.

Cossette sat him up and rubbed his back in a circular motion in an attempt to sooth him. She gently leaned him against the headboard. She moved so she was snuggled up against him.

"I am what?" she asked softly while placing a hand on his cheek.

Erik leaned away from her touch. "It hurts too much," he mumbled.

"What does?" she asked innocently as her hand dropped.

"I cannot," he growled despite the pain in his chest. Erik could see the tears that she blinked back. He had hurt her…

She looked away from him and then back.

"Cossette, I'm so--"

"You really won't allow yourself to love another?" she asked.

"I gave my heart completely and--it hurts too much, Cossette," he answered. "What once was is not anymore."

Cossette looked directly at him and held his hand in both of hers. "I know, Erik. I'm sorry all of that happened, but please don't push me away," she pleaded. "Don't leave me."

Erik closed his eyes. He felt his breathing lessen immensely. He squeezed her hand gently in his. "My heart breaks for you, and only you," he said just above a whisper.

He felt the pain lessen and his chest was no longer heavy. He closed his eyes and welcomed death's dark grasp around him. His last breath slipped away from him and he lay motionless and limp.

***

Cossette sobbed and cried as she cradled Erik's lifeless form in her arms. She buried her face in his jacket. "No, no. Erik! No, don't leave me! Erik! Oh, god, please…please, no," she sobbed. She sat up and stared at the peaceful expression on his face. His tortured soul was finally at rest. She placed a gentle kiss to cheek on his unmasked side as her tears splashed onto his face and mask. "Oh, Erik…my poor, poor Erik…"

* * *

My apologizes...I'm killing Erik and I hate myself for it, but do you really think it will all end here? I say the story is just starting...so don't fear. Reviews, eh?

* * *


	14. Resurgence

* * *

I decided that the story can't go on without or dearest Erik and I couldn't bring myself to kill him, I'm just too attached as I'm sure you all are as well. Ugh, he infuriates me so sometimes, but I love him. He makes me a better person by being…well he's Erik…Teehehehe. Okay, enough with the sadness and heartache and on with the show. Dun, dun... DUN, DUN!

* * *

Chapter 14

Resurgence

Cossette sat there sobbing on the bed holding Erik. She cradled him in her arms and continued to weep. "Oh, Erik…Don't leave me," she begged. She looked up toward the ceiling. "Please, God, don't take him from me," she pleaded. It was a futile effort, but she begged none the less.

"My poor Erik," she wailed. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I apologized, see? I'm sorry for the pain and torment you endured in your miserable life. I'm sorry that my mother rejected your love and that my father tried to kill you. I'm sorry that your Opera House is no more and that you lost your music…I'm sorry that I never told you what my mother said on her death bed…She asked for you, Erik. I'm so, so sorry. Please forgive me," she cried and laid her head back on his chest. "Please, please forgive me."

Cossette stayed that way for what seemed like an endless and unfair eternity to her. She held him in her arms and whispered things to him while she smoothed his hair away from his face. She had always wondered what lay beneath the mask he wore. He had said it was a hideous distortion, a face infection…She wouldn't ask him what lie beneath nor ask him to take it off. She had hoped that he would open up to her and show her when he was ready, but that time had--would never come. It was over.

She stared at the white mask and traced it with her finger. She would never remove it even in his death. If she were to she would feel as though she had betrayed him and that wouldn't do. She sighed and her tears finally dried up. She was unable to cry anymore. She wiped her tear stained face on her sleeve and laid back down next to Erik and nestled herself against his cold form.

Cossette began to think about what could have been…If he hadn't stayed in his room all alone for three days…she didn't even know how long he had been lying there when she had found him…She then remembered something Erik had said to her: _"Many people die with their music still in them."_ It repeated over in her mind. It was true; Erik had died with his music in him. He had so much left but he had given up…The thought made Cossette's heart break ever further. "My poor Erik," she whispered.

A sudden cough startled her. She looked up at Erik's face and could see his eyelids starting to flutter, but they didn't open. She blinked several times. Were her eyes deceiving her? She sat up and cupped Erik's face in her hands. "Erik?" she asked softly in disbelief. His skin was no longer as cold, but it was still clammy. "Erik?"

She listened to him groan. "Erik! Please don't' leave me," she begged him. "Please come back, please. I need you here with me."

***

Out of all of the darkness and gloom, Erik could her a soft voice calling to him, begging him to return. It was Cossette's voice. She needed him. Death held onto him tightly and covered him with it's dark veil, but he fought against it's cruel skeletal hands and forced to break free. It kept pulling him back, but he continued to struggle against it. He harnessed all of his old hatreds, torments, and pain and turned it into strength.

He forced his way though the gloom of grim and surpassed the reaper himself. He felt himself return to pain; physical pain of the living, which meant he had defeated death and won.

He felt the touch of small hands on his face. He coughed and snapped his eyes open to see Cossette was leaning over him. Her face was scarred by the many tears she had shed and her once youthful face looked very old and tired, but she still have that youthful radiance about her. He tried to find his voice, but the fight with death had taken up his remaining strength. All he could do was look at her.

"Erik?" she questioned.

He tried his best to nod, but he couldn't.

"You're alright!" she exclaimed and basically threw herself on him. He groaned, but she clung to him anyway.

"Cossette," he mumbled.

She lifted her chin and looked at him. "Erik?"

He coughed lightly and cleared his throat. His voice was still raspy, but it was better than it had been. "Yes, Cossette," he said softly.

He searched her deep brown eyes that were reddened horridly from her nonstop weeping, and he saw much confusion, but it disappeared and was replaced with a small smile and a small amount of relief. It was a queerly grim smile, but a smile none the less.

He grimaced as he felt a small pain surge throughout his entire being. Her smile faded away quickly and was replaced with worry. "Are you alright?" she asked with all of the concern he knew only too well.

"Fine," he grunted. He tried to gently pry her from him, and it became apparent that she wasn't letting go just yet. He sighed, defeated. "Leave me to rest," he said rather sharply.

Cossette totally ignored him and continued to cling to him. She buried her face in his jacket once again.

Erik could feel her small form pressed against him and he was growing very uncomfortable with the contact. She molded herself to him and clung to him like a young child would her parent. He had experienced more human contact in those short few hours than he had ever in his life and he wasn't too sure that he was ready for it or even if he liked it for that matter.

He tried to shrug her away again, but it was futile. She hung onto him tighter as he tried to break free from her grasp. She held onto him so tightly he thought his lungs would implode on themselves. "Can't breath," he rasped.

She immediately released her tight hold on him and her cheeks blushed with embarrassment. "Sorry," she mumbled.

After he had his breathing under control, he sighed deeply and closed his eyes. Her arms were still around him and her head was still on his chest and no matter how much he wanted her to leave him she wouldn't budge. "Cossette, I heard your voice in the gloom…I followed you…through the gloom," he said quietly.

She turned her head and looked up at him. Her eyes were still red and her face still pale, but she managed a smile. "Don't you ever, ever leave me again," she said firmly and smacked his arm.

Erik was surprised by her smacking him. It didn't hurt him much, just surprised him was all. "Cos--" he started.

"Ever," she interrupted and glared at him.

He nodded in agreement. The firmness in her voice shocked him. It wasn't his choice to leave her. She tried to hold a straight face and glare at him, but she soon started giggling. Erik rolled his eyes. "You are a strange one," he jested.

She smirked. "But you know you enjoy it," she giggled.

He raised his eyebrow at her playfulness, which he didn't understand. "Oh, my little Cossette, naïve and young…poor girl," he sighed.

She released him and sat up next to him with her legs crossed. "What do you mean by that?" she asked rather confused.

Erik was glad to rid himself of her contact. "The heart has reasons the mind knows not," he replied.

She cocked her head at him in confusion.

He almost chuckled at her ignorance, almost. "Dear girl, why do you cling to me like a child? Why does my death effect you so?" he asked.

She thought for a moment. She opened her mouth several times to speak and nothing came out.

Erik watched in amusement as she fought an inner battle with herself; she was obviously losing.

After a few long moments she finally found her voice. "Because I-I…" Erik watched her eyes close. "Because I love you, Erik," she finished and opened her eyes and looked at him.

Erik stayed perfectly still and indifference settled in on his face. He searched her face and found no answers. What had she just said? What? Erik's mind froze. He couldn't think let alone comprehend what she had just said to him. _Love me?_

Cossette obviously saw the confusion on his face. She grabbed his hand in hers and he looked at her. "As a friend, Erik," she said. "As a friend, nothing more nothing less. A friend."

Erik noticed he hadn't been breathing and he inhaled sharply causing him to cough again. A odd sense of relief and disappointment crossed his mind. Was he disappointed at the fact that she _loved _him as a friend? Did he want something more? Not now, not ever. She had just said herself that she only did as a friend. "Ah," was all Erik managed to get out. He downcast his eyes. He couldn't look at her.

"Erik, I didn't mean it like that. I meant that I care deeply about you just not on _those_ terms. Maybe I would had if things had been different, but not right now," she said. "I do love you dearly though," she reassured him.

"I see," he replied and looked at her. "Leave me to rest," he barked. The sudden change in his mood startled her and him. He didn't even understand what at brought on his temper. Was he mad because she only loved him as a friend and nothing more? Was he mad at her for clinging to him with her soft feminine body molded perfectly against his? When Cossette didn't move he bellowed it again, "Leave me be." Cossette stared at him for a moment nodded and left without a word.

Erik could tell by her body language that he had upset her, but he needed time away from her to rest and recuperate from the ordeal he had just had with death. He was physically tired as was he mentally tired. He was completely drained and he used up the very last of his energy in his short temper. He was angry with her as he was angry with himself.

He let go of a low grown and tried to turn on his side, but couldn't. He muttered a curse under his breath and closed his eyes. He soon fell into a restless slumber from sheer exhaustion.

***

Cossette walked out into the dark den and took her usual set in her usual chair. She crossed her arms and stared angrily at the hearth. "Damnable man," she muttered to herself. She cursed his name silently and began to pace around in circles like she had observed him do when he was angry. Eventually she calmed herself enough that she was able to sit back down.

She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. She was mad at Erik. No not mad just irritated by his indifference, his stubbornness, his insufferableness, and his overall attitude and self pity. She grew tired of it all. She had grieved for him and groveled for him and he had returned to her, but he was still the same old shuttered and elusive Erik. _That stubborn man. _She tried to hate him, but she soon found it was impossible to do so.

She couldn't hate him. It _was_ impossible. No matter how infuriating he was at times… She even told him she loved him! What is wrong with the man, she thought. She then remembered that Erik had always been very sensitive and he put up his mask when it came to matters of the heart. She shook her head and felt guilty. "Perhaps I shouldn't have told him," she grumbled to herself.

Cossette hadn't noticed she had been so tired, but the whole ordeal had taken so much out of her and her eyes were most tire of all. They stung from the endless tears she had shed for him and she had a headache from it all. She pulled her blanket up around herself and decided there would be no reasoning with Erik tonight…so she decided to try later…for tomorrow is another day.

* * *

You didn't really think I could kill Erik did you? Heavens no. That would make me a murderer and that is one title I don't yet desire. Doesn't his indifference and stubbornness and his "ggrrrrr I'm gonna be all grr at the world and everyone because I'm a sexy beastie and I can get away with it" get annoying sometimes? Ugh, that insufferable man!

* * *

Me: "Be grateful I brought you back from the dead!"

Erik: "Grrrrrr...Why kill me in the first place?"

Me: "Oh shut-up and go play with your monkey before Raoul touches it!"

Erik: "Fine! No! My monkey! Don't touch it fop!" (Erik does the sexiest cape twirl ever in the history of sexy cape twirls and sulks off.)

Me: "Teehehehehe...Cue theme music!"

Erik: (yells from somewhere in the background) "Hey!That's mine!"

Yes, that was necessary. Hehe. I'm running on pure sugar right now...hehehehe. Well....Reviews, perchance?

* * *


	15. Ardor

* * *

My apologizes for not updating sooner. I went camping over the weekend. Fun, fun, eh? I decided I need some drama and some Erik angst...It will be coming soon. Thanks for reading and reviewing thus far!

* * *

Chapter 15

Ardor

All was quiet in Erik's bedroom. He had waken several times during the night and then dozed off again shortly after. It was the first dreamless sleep he had in many nights. There were none of the usual nightmares or taunting dreams that usually plagued him.

Erik now laid there on his bed, awake. Somehow beyond him, he had lost his coverings during the night and he was to weak to retrieve them so he suffered from the cold. It wasn't unbearable just an annoying draft came and went every few minutes. He made a mental note to straighten his window pane at a later date so that blasted draft would cease.

Observing the small amount of light that filtered through the window, Erik guessed it was most likely in the early hours of morning. He sighed and closed his eyes. He was no longer tired physically, but mentally he was in need of some type of relief for his restless mind.

After a few short moments of lying there, he forced himself to a sitting position with great difficulty against the headboard. The pain in his chest had subsided since last night, but the pressure was still there along with the occasional pain in his arm. Erik straightened his mask and put it back into place. He knew he had had a heart attack of some sort and that he should be bed ridden for several weeks to recover, but his usual stubbornness got in the way and he hated feeling helpless and venerable.

He forced himself to stand with the help of the nearby wall. He felt horribly weak and he felt as though his knees would give out on him at any given moment so he stood with his weight on the wall for several minutes until he felt the weak feeling lessen. He slowly made his way into the hall and stumbled into the den using the support of the wall.

He saw Cossette sitting in front of an empty fireplace in her usual chair. He stopped and leaned on the wall to gather his strength. He felt faint and now regretted leaving his bed. Suddenly, Erik felt his knees buckle and he fell to the floor. He put out his hands to catch himself. He hit the floor with a thud and he felt Cossette at his side. She grabbed his arm and helped pull him to his feet and dragged him over to his chair and helped him sit down.

Erik glared into the hearth. He hated not being able to be in control and he hated having the girl help him. It made him feel much older and he hated it. He hated to admit it, but he needed her more now than ever it seemed. He wouldn't be able to do much of anything until he recovered.

He stole a glance at Cossette when she wasn't looking. She looked as if she had aged a great many years since last night. Her face was gray and pale. Her eyes were shadowed by dark circles and her eyes were red from the lack of sleep and crying. She pulled her chair right up next to him and when she sat down her elbow bumped his and he jerked away so fast he almost fell over.

The two didn't look at each other or speak. Cossette was memorized by a rug that hung on the wall and Erik pretended to be distracted by an old painting. The air wasn't tense, but it grew very awkward. Erik was growing uneasy with ever passing moment and couldn't help, but think of last night…

Cossette had been so close…she had been under his mask yet again. She always wormed her way through. She had clung to him like a child and sobbed. She had said she loved him. That stuck in his head and troubled him. _As a friend. _It mocked."…_Nothing more, nothing less. A friend." _She had said he was her world…And that she didn't wish to marry. She had wanted to stay with him. He was very confused on the matter. He didn't understand nor did he want to.

He was again rethinking letting Cossette stay. He couldn't let her go now. He needed her no matter how much he hated to admit it. He really wanted to know where they stood, but he didn't dare ask her. Not now at least.

Erik was growing tired of the silence. "You didn't sleep," he stated without even glancing at her. He could feel her eyes on him though.

"I couldn't," she answered.

"Ah," he replied and finally turned to look at her. Her face was rather relaxed now, but fatigue still hung its dark and heavy cloud over her head. The color had returned to her face and her usual beauty was back and he couldn't help but stare.

She turned completely and stared back. "You shouldn't be out of bed," she scolded. "You need your rest and you're never going to get better this--"

He held up his hand for her to stop. "It's quite alright," he said crisply.

"No, it's not. You need rest and time to recover. You are at risk for another heart attack and I'm not going through that again," she stated matter-of-factly.

"I am not laying in that bed for several weeks. I will go mad," he argued.

"Fine," she said as she crossed her arms. "Have another heart attack for all I care."

He knew she didn't mean it, and she was right he did need rest, but not just yet. "You don't mean that," he said.

Her glare softened and she uncrossed her arms and leaned closer to him. "I know. But you really do need your rest, Erik. You're not going to get better this way," she replied.

He ignored her comment. He hated the small talk. It was pointless and a waste of breath. _Just a friend…_ Erik hadn't realized he had spoken his thought out loud.

"Erik--" she started

"We won't speak on it," he said sharply.

"But, Erik--"

"No," he cut her off again.

"Erik, I'm sorry about last night. I thought I had lost you…and I-I…I don't know what I would have done. Then you came back and I was so happy and…" her voice trailed off.

"And?" he echoed.

She shook her head. "That is all," she said hesitantly.

"I see." He searched her face and could see an unrecognizable emotion there; one he was unfamiliar with. He shook his head and rested his eyes. He felt her lean on his shoulder. Her hair fell around him and he could smell her sweet aroma. It teased his senses and clouded his mind, but he remained indifferent and motionless.

"Erik?"

"Cossette?"

"I'm sorry," she said quietly as she hooked her arm in his.

"For?" he questioned.

"Everything," she said and nestled herself into his shoulder.

He nodded and leaned his head to rest on the top of hers. If there were any perfect moments this was one of them. Cossette had her arm linked in his and leaned on his shoulder and his head rested on hers. Erik smiled internally. He was finally happy and he hadn't been in a long time. He didn't smile, but he was content.

"Look at us, Erik," Cossette mumbled.

"Yes, my dear. We two are an odd pair," he replied.

"That we are," she agreed and a small giggle escaped her.

Erik lifted his head and stared at her. Her laugh itself was beautiful. A small smile creased Erik's lips as he stared at her. It had been a long time since he had smiled and it felt good like something that had been missing had been brought back.

She returned the smile and yawned softly.

Erik could see she needed rest. The poor girl looked like she was going to fall over from the ordeal of last night. "You need rest," he said.

"I'm fine," she said.

"No. Rest, Cossette," he said sternly.

"I'm not leaving you alone," she said.

"I will be fine, dear girl. It's you I worry about. Not go rest," he said. "Take my bed. I'll be here when you awake."

She nodded reluctantly and pulled her arm from his and stood up. She smoothed her dress and bent down to his level. "Thank you, Erik," she said and surprised him with a light kiss on his left cheek and hurriedly made off toward his room.

Erik sat in his chair too shocked to move. He wasn't sure if he should be happy or angry with her. Her lips felt so soft and warm against his cold flesh and he felt an old spark ignite within him. It had sent a thrilling shiver down his spine. He hadn't felt anything like that since Christine. He pushed the taunting thought from his mind.

"Oh, Cossette," he muttered to himself. "You will torture me as well." _Just a friend…Perhaps something more? _He doubted there ever would be anything more between them, but then why was she always so close to him? Why was she constantly coming in contact with him? He hadn't been use to it at first, but then he guessed other human beings were more affectionate, but that wasn't the case here...or was it?

He still felt uneasy with being in contact with another, but Cossette insisted on pushing him and he wasn't sure how much more he could take without breaking. She had kissed him and it felt foreign and wonderful to him. It was just a kiss of appreciation…Nothing more.

Erik sat wallowing in his self-pity and confusion for a short while before dozing off again in a light nap.

***

Several hours later, Erik woke. He rubbed the sleepiness from his eyes and straightened his mask. He ran a gloved hand through his hair. He couldn't even guess how horrible his appearance was. His suit was a wrinkled mess, stained by tears and who knows what else. His hair was a complete mess of black and gray. He felt the stubble that had accumulated on his cheek and chin.

He forced himself up from the chair and ambled to his bedroom. He had forgot that Cossette had taken up his bed. He stood leaning in the doorway and watched her. Her brown locks lay sprawled around her and cascaded off of the pillow. Her face was no longer covered by that shadow of worry and fatigue. He know recognized the girl laying there. She was as beautiful as ever.

Erik felt that same feeling of warmth again. He shook his head, but continued to stare at her. His eyes wandered over her face, down her pale neck and stopped at her chest. Erik snapped his eyes shut and looked away. _What am I doing?_ He coughed.

Cossette stirred and turned on her side and stared at Erik. "Watching me sleep…Isn't that a bit like a stalker?" she asked sleepily.

Erik frowned and stepped into the room and ignored her. He walked over to his dresser and began digging through drawers looking for his shaving kit as well as clean clothing.

Cossette sat up and let the blanket fall around her form loosely. "I didn't mean it badly," she said. "It was a mere jest."

He nodded without looking at her and finally found his shaving kit and grabbed a dark suit. He walked off to the small bathroom. He stared at himself in the mirror. His green eyes seemed duller like the life had been sucked out of him; literally. His face was pale and dark stubble was patched on his cheeks and chin. His hair was disheveled and he was an overall mess.

Erik gently removed his mask and didn't bother looking at his marred side in the mirror; it would only anger him. He removed his gloves and set them aside. He pulled out a cloth, wetted it, and began to wipe his face when he heard Cossette walk in. He quickly used his hand to cover the right side of his face and turned away from her.

Her eyes wandered from the discarded mask to Erik's back. "Erik?" She reached out her hand to touch him.

"Go," he said quietly.

"But Er--"

"Now," he hissed. "You will never lay your eyes upon this monster."

Cossette exited the bathroom and Erik slammed the door behind her and sunk to the ground and cried. It was mostly self pity and loathing. He cried silently into his hands. His marred flesh felt revolting against his palms. All of the craters and bumps… He shuddered and continued sobbing for several minutes before gathering himself.

He forced himself up and washed up. He shaved and slicked back his hair and dressed. He slowly returned back to his room. Cossette was sitting there on the bed she looked up at him as he entered.

"Whatever you hide under your mask can't be that horrible, Erik," she said softly while playing with a loose string from the blanket.

"Trust me, my dear, it is nothing you ever want to see," he replied tenderly.

She rose and stood in front of him. "You shouldn't hide yourself from me, Erik," she said.

"This distortion will only force you to leave after you have seen," he replied and looked down.

Cossette laid a hand on his unmasked side. "It holds no fear for me, Erik," she said. "I will not leave you."

He closed his eyes upon her touch. "Stop this, Cossette," he mumbled.

Cossette held his face in her hands. "Can I take it off?" she asked.

Erik pulled her hands down and held them in his. He leaned his forehead against hers. "I will not allow you to see that distortion, my dear," he said quietly. "I will not poison you with this," he said gesturing to his mask. Erik pulled back from her, but their hands remained intertwined.

Erik held Cossette's gaze. As he went to pull away from her she threw herself into his arms and almost knocked him over. "Cossette--"

"I can't do this any more, Erik," she said into his chest.

He wrapped his arms around her and pressed his face into her brown curls. "It's alright, Cossette," he coaxed.

"No, it's not," she mumbled into his jacket. "I cannot try if you can't meet me half way."

Erik pulled back from her and stared. "What are you talking about, dear girl?" he questioned.

"Us," Cossette replied and tried to grab his hand, but he moved just out of reach.

* * *

Hehehe. I'm not sure how Erik is going to react to this...That's why I had to stop, ha. Yeah...I know. I'm horrible. Thanks for reading and reviewing! I didn't think this story would honestly get this many views! 1,000 hits! Whoo! Thanks everyone! You guys and gals are awesome! Erik appreciates it also.

Chappy SIXTEEN will be fun...muhahahahaha...the angst and irate rampages shall return! Muahaha. I think Erik was starting to go soft on us, ha and I am in desperate need of drama.

* * *


	16. Desire

* * *

Sorry 'bout that...I'm running off a high from insomnia and Lucky Charms. Teehehehe. Anyways…So where is the drama I promised you ask? Hhhmmm…Read on my little poppets, read on. Some of you might hurt me...

* * *

Chapter 16

Desire

The air between them became dreadfully tense as Erik digested the concept of "us". Why did she want to discuss this now? There was never anything between them at least anything Erik was aware of. Yes, he was fond of the girl, but he grew irritated and annoyed with her easily. And recently he didn't want too be anywhere near her. He had moved away from her and stood in the doorway again. He watched her as she watched him.

A contortion of sadness, disappointment, and hurt was written on Cossette's face. She didn't move, and her eyes never left his.

The usual indifference settled in on Erik's features, despite the fact that he was deeply troubled. He would not show weakness, least of all to her. He leaned lazily onto the doorframe as he felt the pressure in his chest greaten. He clenched his jaw for a moment as the pain faded to a dull annoyance. Erik broke eye contact and stared past her.

"Look at me, Erik," Cossette said breaking the silence.

He closed his eyes and shook his head.

"Why not?" she asked rather annoyed with him.

"I cannot," he replied grimly and turned to go.

Cossette ran over and grabbed his arm. "Don't tell me you don't feel the same things I feel, Erik. You can't tell me you don't care about me at all. You told me your heartbreaks for me and only me…were those empty words? Do they mean nothing to you?" she asked. Her tears we threatening to fall as she stared at him and her grip on his arm tightened.

Erik pried her from his arm and stared at her for a moment. He opened his mouth to speak, but changed his mind and hastily stumbled his way into the den. He felt her following at his heels. The whole time she was blabbering and carrying on about how horrible, infuriating, insufferable, and impossible he was. He tried his best to ignore her as he swapped his cape for his cloak and hat.

"You're not even listening to me," she wailed. "You can't keep doing this to me."

Erik refused to even glance at her as he threw his cloak around his shoulders and donned his black hat. "I tire of this," he grumbled and opened the door and headed toward Cicero's stable. The cold air whipped his cloak around him and stung his exposed flesh.

"Erik!"

He ignored her as his anger began to fester within him. He whistled for Cicero and the tame beast trotted up to him obediently. Erik grabbed the reins and led it away from the stables.

"Erik, stop!" Cossette came running away from the house and nearly tripped on her dress as she reached Erik, who turned and glared at her while he was still holding Cicero's reins in his hand. Cicero gave a disapproving snort as Cossette got closer.

"Why do you do this? You keep putting up this masks and running from me," she rasped. She was out of breath from her short sprint.

Erik's grip tightened around the reins he held in his hand so tightly he thought they would snap. He noticed he was breathing heavily and he felt his face grow very hot. "This is a dangerous game you play," he growled. "The prey should be running from the monster not throwing herself at him."

She stared at him in disbelief. "Back to this self-pity again, are we Erik?" she challenged.

"Ignorant girl, you know not of which you speak nor of what you ask," he hissed. "You want to see this monster that lies beneath? You want to see the loathing beast and murderer? You want to lay your eyes upon this distorted being and corrupt soul? You wish to provoke the demons that lie inside this dark abyss? This man you look for doesn't exist any longer. He was lost long ago to madness and left this empty carcass." He gestured too himself then paused and glared at her.

"Erik—"

"You are curious? You wish to know the _real_ man who lies beneath the mask? Well by all means rip it from my face," he growled.

Tears stained her cheeks. His harsh words had done their worst and she shrank away from him. She looked up at him through her tears. "Erik, I-I…"

"You what? You didn't mean to upset me? You are sorry? Perhaps, now you feel bad for disturbing this monster? Words mean nothing to me," he spat the words at her like venom and they burned into her.

Tears continued to fall down her pale cheeks as she looked up at him. Her brown locks were flailing around her from the wind and her dress whipped around violently. Her arms held herself to try to keep warm. "All of this means nothing to you? Every moment we have shared, all of those moments, they mean nothing to you?" she asked. Her voice had cracked.

Erik furrowed his brow and stared at her with his menacing green eyes that held a glint of hostility that Cossette had not yet seen. "We have shared nothing. It was all in vain, my little viper. And so it means nothing. Nothing at all," he bellowed. With that he mounted Cicero and glanced down at her once more. She was unable to look at him so she stared at the ground. He dug his heels into Cicero's sides. The horse took of at a full gallop toward town.

***

As Erik came upon the bustling city of Paris, a look of utter annoyance and disgust passed over his face. He pulled back on the reins, which caused Cicero to slow to a trot. Every Frenchman and woman appeared to be on the streets going about their lives and work. The streets were so crowded that Erik thought he might just trample through them leaving a mass trail of trampled bodies. The thought made him sick, but it amused him.

His temper had only grown, and his patience was at its end. He hated all of the people, that is. All of them had worry free and simple lives while he was very complicated and full of a list of never ending miseries. He wanted to slaughter them all.

He urged Cicero to the disserted part of town, which had once been a lively neighborhood. The streets were bare except for a few gypsies here and there. All of the buildings were empty and abandoned as were the houses that lined the street.

Erik stopped as he neared a familiar sight. He hadn't looked upon it since that last night…that night when hell came to life. He stopped and stared at the once great Opera Populaire. It had been twenty-two years since he had last seen it. He felt his anger turn into remorse and sadness. He observed the sad structure.

The once great Opera House now stood in skeletal ruins. The great pillars had fallen in on it. The stain glass windows had been broken out. The roof was completely gone, say for the leftmost corner. The charred remains seemed to cry out to him. After the Opera Populaire had died, Paris had lost its culture and along with its art.

Erik was unable to look at it anymore. He brushed away the tears he had shed. He castle, his domain, his home, was gone. He sighed and urged Cicero away from the painful sight.

***

It was nearing dusk when Erik and Cicero came trotting down the path toward the house. The wind continued it's nasty torment and constantly threatened to steal away his hat, which it had done three times already. The sky was full of monotonous storm clouds that threatened to pour down its angry tears. He was already partially intoxicated from a stop he made at a pub. His mood had not improved, but worsened after his trek into town.

He dismounted Cicero and stumbled his way to the door. He opened it hastily and slammed it behind him. After he did so, the rain began to fall. He looked around the den and didn't see Cossette. _Cossette…_ The thought of her soured his horrible mood. He shook his head angrily at the thought of her.

Erik groaned in frustration and stalked off toward the kitchen. _Damnable girl! _He opened the cupboard and grabbed two bottles of his bourbon leaving one to stand alone. He jammed one is the inside of his suit pocket and the other he held in his hand. He quickly unscrewed the lid and took a long and much needed swig. He welcomed the sweet liquid as it burned down his throat.

Upon hearing footsteps behind him he whirled around on the girl with his bottle still in hand. His face grew very hot and red flashed in his eyes. He watched her shrink back, which gave him a twisted sense of pleasure at her fear. He glared at her menacingly and his eyes became clouded over with a much-missed murderous glint. He was breathing heavily and one could almost see the smoke being emitted from his nostrils.

Cossette stared at him and he could see much fear and uncertainty in her brown eyes. "Don't, Erik. You'll drink yourself to death," she pleaded.

Nothing she said registered with him now. He downed the rest of the bottle and some sloshed down from his chin and stained his shirt and he didn't seem to take notice. He let the empty bottle fall from his grip and it shattered on the floor. He clenched his fists so hard his nails began to dig into his palms and they began to bleed. He started advancing toward her slowly.

She had herself pinned between him and the corner of the wall. "Stop this, Erik," she begged as she pressed herself against the wall.

"You brought this upon yourself," he hissed. He was only a few feet from her now. He could smell her fear and could almost taste it.

"Erik, no…please…" Tears were crawling down her face and splashing on the cold floor.

Erik stood only a few inches from her face. He could smell her sweet scent, but it held no interest to him now. He leaned in close and whispered into her ear, "Erik is taking what is his."

Cossette leaned as far away from him as she could get and closed her eyes so she didn't have to stare into his green orbs. Tears started to cascade down her cheeks and the splashed onto Erik's bourbon stained shirt. "Please don't do this," she begged.

Erik ignored her plea and took one hand and wrapped it around her neck while the other restrained her wrists above her head. He was too consumed by intoxication, rage, and lust to notice her tears. He pushed himself against her small form, which caused her to let out a stifled scream. "Eager, aren't we?" he mocked. "Erik is taking what belongs to him," he hissed.

She turned her face from him. "Erik, don't do this. You're drunk," she accused through her tears.

A maddening smile pursed his lips and his hand tightened around her neck causing her to gasp for air. He leaned forward and whispered into her ear, "Scream for me."

She shook her head and he tightened his grip so she choked for air then he softened his grip a little bit.

"Scream for me," he repeated.

"Erik…you're hurting…me," she managed to choke out.

He relaxed his grip ever so slightly on her neck allowing her to breath. "That's the idea, love," he whispered.

"Let go of me," she yelled at him. She tried to struggle, but it was futile. Erik was much stronger than she even though he had aged and he was well aware. Her trying to break from his gripe only excited him more.

"Erik can't stop. He wants this…he needs this," he replied huskily. He removed his hand from her neck and caressed her face as his urge to claim her mouth as his intensified.

"Please, Erik…. please…" she whimpered.

He grinned a sickly and mad grin. "Mine. All mine," he said hoarsely. He covered her mouth with his. He pressed his mouth to hers forcefully causing her to scream in her throat. Erik evaded her mouth with his tongue and she struggled against him the entire time trying to break free.

He pulled back form her for a moment. As he stared at her young tearstained face the effect off the alcohol subsided instantly. _What have I done?_

Erik then sank to his knees as he took a most agonizing blow to the groin. When his logical thoughts returned to him. He let out a groan as he rolled over on his side. He cursed himself as he heard her hurried footsteps disappear and a door slam somewhere in the house.

After laying in agony and pain for several minutes Erik forced himself up and slinked off to his room. She had every right to leave him like that and he deserved what he got in return for trying to take advantage of her under the influence of his sweet bourbon or not. He cursed himself as he threw himself down at his desk.

_How could I? What demons possess me to do so? _He angrily kicked his desk leaving a large dent in it and his foot throbbing. He stood up and threw he chair against the wall in frustration and heard a huge crack of wood. He began to pace back and forth. He couldn't face her now. Not after what he did. It was unforgivable.

Erik needed to get away more now then ever. No matter the apology, she would never forgive him nor would she ever be able to trust him again. He could never undue what he had just done. He practically ran out the front door and slammed it behind him.

Large raindrops fell from the nighttime sky; it seemed that the heavens were frowning down on him and were crying for the girl. He became immediately drenched from head to toe as he stormed off to the small stable. Erik mounted Cicero hastily and grabbed the reins. Cicero let out a loud and high-pitched whiney in compliance. He dug his heels into the horse's sides and they bolted off into the dark and rainy night.

* * *

Erik's Other Lover suddenly ran into the room, punched Cossette in the face, and then stole Erik. The end . . . DUHN, duhn, Duuuuhhhhhhhhhhhh…I despise and loath Cossette girl so much…grrr…Love you, Erik. =)

Reviews, comments, questions, concerns, jests, corrections, rants, blurbs, remarks, observations, notes, worries, fears, alarms, apprehension, anxieties, explosive dysentery, disapprovals, withdrawal symptoms from morphine, angry outbursts, praises, or any suggestions, savvy?

* * *


	17. Hesitance

* * *

My apologizes for taking so long. I've been procrastinating and I have too many projects going at once. Well...Here goes. It's not that long, but it's interesting...I guess. Read on.

* * *

Chapter 17

Hesitance

As Erik rode on, the rainstorm intensified. The heavy shower poured down harder and faster with every passing moment. He was no longer able to see in front of him, for the downpour clouded his vision and the darkness of the night had finally conquered the day. The moon hid behind the storm clouds, along with the stars. He had become completely drenched, as was Cicero, whose mane was matted in a tangled mess. Erik's clothes clung to him and his cloak whipped violently around behind him as Cicero sprinted on.

Erik didn't know where he was going, nor did he care. He just needed to get away from it all, away from everything, away from his inner monster, and most of all; he needed to get away from _her_. _What have I done?_ He gritted his teeth and brushed the water from his face and mask in a futile attempt to clear his vision. The rain soaked him again and the wind tormented him relentlessly.

Thunder sounded and lightning lit the sky. It startled Cicero and he reared up suddenly, a stunned Erik was thrown to the muddy ground, and Cicero whinnied in anguish and sudden terror.

***

Thunder sounded and lighting cracked outside of the house. The shutters shook and banged against the side from the relentless wind. Cossette sat in an empty room on the floor with her knees pulled to her chest. She stared out the window at the raindrops that ran down the window pain. She sighed and wiped the remaining tears from her eyes.

Cossette jumped at a loud boom followed by another. She stood and wrapped her arms around herself, not because of the cold, but to comfort herself in the only way she was able. She knew she was alone now and she decided to go and start the fire for it was getting cold.

She walked slowly into the den. It took her much longer to start the fire since she had only saw Erik do it before. She cringed at the thought of his name. She finally had a small flame and she immediately added more wood. When she was satisfied, she moved to her usual chair and snuggled into the blanket.

Cossette glared into the flames. She hated him. He had almost raped her, had he not? She hated alcohol and he knew how she felt about it, but he continued to drink anyway and their last incident was the result. Tears of rage rolled slowly down her cheeks.

She was utterly angry and confused. She couldn't believe what he had almost succeeded in doing. She was angry that he had tried to force himself on her. But now, she found herself very lonely and it was most unbearable, but she feared what he might do when he returned.

Would he finish what he had started or would he cause her harm? Perhaps something far worse would come? She feared him and his wrath. She brushed away her tears and pulled the blanket more tightly around herself.

***

Cicero came to a slow halt as Erik dismounted him and left him near the black gates. Erik stopped and stared through the bars at the cemetery. A light fog settled in and an eerie light from the now visible moon shown down on the tombstones and the many statues of angels other guardians. The rain continued to fall, but lost its intensity.

Erik stood hesitantly at the gate as he gripped the cold bars tightly with his gloved hands. He shook he head and closed his eyes while he mentally prepared himself. He pushed his forehead against the cold bars as he closed his eyes. The wind whipped at him, causing his cape to wave violently behind him. The cold wind stung his exposed flesh and made him shiver as the cold wind met his wet garments.

Trying his best to ignore the cold, Erik peered through the bars at the familiar statues and tombstones. They had been weathered and had been subject to the cruel test of time. Many headstones were now unreadable and were at the mercy of the elements. He remembered when he had taken the place as Christine's driver and had almost succeeded in having her finally and completely succumb to him, but that insolate boy had appeared…any nearly ended him. _"No, Raoul. Not like this."_ That was her defense in sparing him. He tore himself away from the gate and clenched his fists.

"Insolate boy," he muttered under his breath as he stalked back toward the rode. It was not time yet to visit her grave…Only then, though, would he believe her dead. He cursed the boy under his breath.

He shuddered as the wind sliced through him again. He was at risk for hypothermia if he didn't get out of the cold and his health wasn't what it use to be. He whistled for Cicero. The tamed beast trotted obediently toward its master and threw back it's head and whinnied.

Erik grabbed the saddle and pulled himself up. He gripped the reins with his numb hands and buried his heels in Cicero's sides and headed for home.

***

After Erik had left Cicero in his stable with hay and fresh water, he stalked toward the house. He walked up to the door and stopped. He didn't dare disturb Cossette after what he had done. She would hate him and it was best if he dismissed her anyway. He shook his head and hesitantly opened the door.

Erik crept inside, shed his wet cape, and hung it on the stand next to the door. It was too dark to see anything in the den. Erik silently and swiftly started a new fire, which illuminated the gloomy room. He turned his back to the fire and looked to where Cossette normally would be seated.

An immediate wave of guilt crept into Erik's mind and bombarded him. He felt about an inch tall. His knees felt weak. He knew he would loose his ability to stand quickly; he felt his muscles betraying him. He quickly ambled to his usual chair and sat himself down. He rested his face on his hand. He pinched the skin between his two eyebrows with his thumb and index finger.

The guilt tormented him relentlessly. He knew very well that he deserved it for trying to force himself on the girl. He let loose a quiet groan of annoyance. He remembered the feel of her soft feminine frame against his and the taste of her sweet lips…he had been possessed by lust and intoxication. He cursed himself under his breath.

"Truly a vile beast who acts upon lust and blood, I have become," he muttered to himself. "How could I corrupt something…so-so innocent?"

Erik felt disgusted with himself. He hated himself for what he had done and he hated the girl for having that effect on him. He lusted after her and he had almost taken what he had wanted from her, but when he saw the pained and scared expression on her face his logic and self-control returned…and then pain. Erik shuddered at the remembrance of the pain she had caused him before she fled.

"I am but a revolting bastard," he mumbled as he stared into the angry red and orange flames. He knew the girl would never forgive him…He would have to let her go and who knows what would happen then.

He continued to watch the flames until they died down to low embers. His eyes grew heavy and he knew sleep was going to claim him. He tried to fight it, but it was a futile effort. Perhaps tomorrow?

* * *

It always gets darkest before it goes pitch black...The next installment will be very interesting...Thanks for reviewing and reading my beloved amies! I apologize for my horrid grammar. I will revise as soon as possible.

* * *


	18. Games

* * *

My apologizes for taking so long update. I've been busy with family drama and finals. Well...Here be an interesting chappy. It's like a roller-coaster. Hehehehe...Read on.

* * *

Chapter 18

Games

Tomorrow had come. The den was gloomy and dimly lit as usual, despite the fact that it was sunup. Erik sat slumped in his chair, where he had fallen asleep the night before after his little escapade. He stirred slightly as he heard a creak behind him. He dismissed it as the house moaning and groaning as it always did when it continued to settle on its forever-shifting foundation. He closed his eyes and dozed lightly.

Several moments later, Erik opened his eyes. He rubbed away the sleepiness that lingered there. He then stretched out his long legs in front of him. He sighed heavily and crossed his arms across his chest and stared blankly in front of him at the empty hearth.

If he ever needed some of his bourbon, it was now. His mind and guilt tortured him now and even in his dreams. He couldn't bare it any longer and he missed his sweet release. Although he had been able to sleep much more than usual, he had several haunting dreams about the girl… He shook his head and stood. One petite glass, he thought to himself. _That is all._

After entering the kitchen, Erik quickly located his bourbon. He uncorked it easily and pulled out a glass. He filled the glass to its brim and set it aside as he stowed away the bottle. After doing so, he picked up the bourbon and inhaled its enticing aroma. "One lone swallow and I doom myself to hell," he muttered to himself.

He raised the glass to his lips, but stopped when he heard the soft sound of bare feet in the hall. _Cossette…_ He wanted badly to apologize and beg her forgiveness for what he had almost done to her and he would have if she hadn't struck him.

Erik shuddered as he recalled the pain she inflicted on him. He could almost feel his groin throbbing with that horrid and unexplainable pain again. He shook his head to get rid of such torture. He stared down into his bourbon and swirled it in the glass. He looked up to see Cossette was standing hesitantly in the doorway to the den. His stomach knotted immediately and he no longer wanted his bourbon.

He was unaware that the grip he had on his glass lessened and he barely felt the glass fall from between his gloved fingers. Bourbon sloshed onto his shoes when it shattered on the floor into many fragments, but he didn't seem to take notice. His eyes drank in Cossette.

Cossette's arms were crossed across her small chest and she was staring at the floor where his glass had shattered. She wore a black nightgown; the one that Erik had noted that still hugged her form in the most enticing way imaginable. Her hair was lying lazily on her shoulders in a tangled mess. Her eyes were red from crying and a lack of sleep and she looked grief stricken.

Erik's guilt rose as he looked at her. She looked heartrending and broken. He had done this to her and he hated himself—he loathed himself for it. He tore his eyes from her and stared down at his bourbon stained shoes. He felt her eyes burning into him. He felt powerless and feeble under her gaze. He wanted to meet her eyes, but couldn't bring himself to do so. He turned from her entirely and started to pick up the broken shards.

He felt Cossette walk up behind him. She bent down to his level and he kept his face from her as she began to help pick up the shards of glass. They worked in silence, never letting the other catch the other's eye.

Erik felt Cossette brush his arm gently and she recoiled so abruptly that she let out a small cry as she sliced her palm on a piece of glass in her hand. Sudden worry took over Erik. He moved closer to her and pried her hand away from her chest. She let him reluctantly.

He examined the soft flesh of her palm with his skilled fingers; a clean cut but not deep. He pulled her to her feet gently and led her over to the washbasin, where he submerged her palm in the warm water. She winced as the water met her cut.

After Erik had sterilized it, he pulled out a piece of cloth and wrapped it around her hand ever so gently. He held her wrist in his gloved hand as he secured the cloth with a single pin. He looked up to see her watching him with a puzzled look on her face. He immediately dropped her hand and turned from her and picked up the rest of the shards and disposed of them quickly.

Erik turned on his heel and almost ran into Cossette, who he hadn't been aware that she was standing right behind him. He adverted his eyes; unable to look at her. He could feel her eyes on him again. He wanted to speak but no words came. He wanted to run, but his feet betrayed him. He wanted to hold her in his arms and tell her how sorry he was and how much she meant to him and how he could not let her leave, but he felt numb.

The two stood awkwardly in silence; Erik staring at a random tile on the floor and Cossette looking occasionally looking at him and then observing her bandage while clutching her bandaged hand to her chest.

After what seemed like an eternity Erik found his voice. "Cossette—"he started weakly.

"Why did you leave?" she interrupted.

Erik looked up at her when he noted a small hint of anger in her tone. "What are you referring to?" he asked.

"You left last night," she replied.

Erik nodded. He was utterly confused as to why she cared if he left after the _incident_. He was expecting her to lash out at him for violating her in such a way. He lifted his left brow in confusion.

"Why did you leave me alone?" she persisted.

Erik debated with himself as to what he should say. Dare he say that he was afraid for her and that he had to leave because he couldn't face her after what he had done and that he had no control over himself?

"The monster in me will always desire the lamb in you," he said quietly. He watched her eyes widen, but she understood.

She nodded and stepped closer to him. "You may be feral, but you are no monster," she said. "Thank you," she said gesturing to her hand.

He nodded and finally met her gaze. Her eyes were shiny and red, upon the verge of tears. "Cossette, I am—"

Before he could finish she threw herself into him and sobbed. He stiffened at her sudden grip on his shirt, but relaxed as she buried her face into his chest. He wrapped one arm around her waist; the other, he stroked her hair in a soothing manner.

She clung to him tightly and continued to sob, but not as profusely as before. She balled his shirt up in her small fists. "Don't ever leave me like that again," she said through her tears. "Not ever."

Erik pulled from her just enough so he could see her face. He lifted her chin and gently brushed away the tears on her cheeks with his gloved thumbs. He stared into her eyes and found that unreadable and unrecognizable emotion there again. He sighed and pulled from her completely and kept himself at a safe distance on the other side of the kitchen with the small table in the center as his only defense.

Cossette now stood holding her injured hand and watching him. She looked as though she was going to break into hysterics again. It broke his heart to see her that way, but something inside of his mind stopped him from allowing himself to go farther. He didn't want to hurt her again nor did he want to let her under his mask. He didn't want to let himself to become subject to her refusal or possible rejection. His heart still bleeds for his lost love and it frightened him to let Cossette too close, but at the same time he wanted to take her into his arms and hold her forever.

Instead of listening to his heart, he followed his logic and the demands of his mind. When he should have been holding her, he had distanced himself because of his cowardice. He opened his mouth to give her an explanation for his sudden questionable actions, but he felt his throat go dry and his voice refused to vocalize itself.

"Why?" Cossette asked.

Erik couldn't bring himself to speak. He forced himself to look away from her for a moment then he met her gaze once more. "Why?" he echoed.

"Why do you this?" she asked.

He could hear the hurt in her voice, but his own selfish thoughts and distractions kept him from a direct answer. "I've done nothing," he mumbled and began to trace his gloved finger over a deformed eyespot in the wooden countertop.

Cossette quickly closed the distance between them and stared up at him. "That is it! You've done nothing. You won't talk to me or even look at me unless we are fighting. We never have a civil conversation and it is your entire fault," she scolded. "Do you enjoy this?" she asked. "Is this a game to you?"

Erik felt his anger building at her banter and he slammed his fist down on the countertop. "Do you really believe that I enjoy this constant quarreling?" he asked angrily. "And don't you dare blame the entirety of this on me," he added.

"Well, I have good right to blame you. You are the most insufferable man I've ever met," she countered.

"I will not be insulted by a mere girl such as yourself," he shot back.

"Oh, really?" she challenged.

"Yes, my dear. I have it right in my mind to escort you back to your _loving_ father," he replied.

Cossette placed her hands on her hips. "You have no right to speak of my father," she yelled back. "You won't take me back anyway."

"You think my threats are hallow?" he hissed.

"I just know you won't do it. You can't stand to see me leave," she replied spitefully.

Erik's frustration level was escalating and he was sure he would lose his temper soon. How the girl infuriated him! "Listen closely, my dear. I would not hesitate in ridding myself of you. You are the source of my anguish," he replied through clenched teeth.

She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. "You really believe it is me who does this to you? Me? You do this to yourself. Your self-pity and self-loathing is most childish. You are a grown man and you act like a child when you don't get your way and I refuse to mother you," she stated firmly.

Erik crossed his arms across his strong chest and glared at her so intensely that red clouded his vision. "I will not stand here under your insult," he growled and turned swiftly to leave.

Cossette caught his arm and held it firmly. "This is exactly what I mean. When the situation isn't to your liking or you feel threatened you try to run away from your problems," she accused.

Erik ripped his arm from her violently and held back his hand if he were to strike her, but when she flinched he immediately dropped his hand at his side. He stared at the fear on her face, and immediately regretted what he had almost done. "I wouldn't have—I didn't mean—Cossette," he stammered, feeling like a bumbling fool.

She watched him intently and acted if though she was waiting for him to say something.

"I would never harm you," he said softly and tried to reach for her, but she moved just out of his reach.

She shook her head. "It's too late for that," she said.

Erik stared at her then it donned on him. She was referring to last night when he almost… How he hated himself for what he had done and what he had almost done. How he dreaded this conversation. "Oh, Cossette," he mumbled just above a whisper.

She glared at him. "Tell me…what possessed you to partially strangle and almost have your way with me," she demanded.

Guilt and shame made Erik unable to meet her eyes. He never meant to harm her. He was after all drunk off his arse, but that was not a good enough excuse. He was taking his rage out on her and he wanted her so badly…

Erik could hear the blood pumping in his ears. He looked up at her. "My sincerest apologizes, Cossette," he said quietly.

She glared at him. "You think that makes this better? You think that fixes it? It's not that easy. If I hadn't defended myself you would have taken me. What happened to the man I knew; the caring and gentleman?" she asked and the expression on her face was very intense.

"I-I…am a monster," he mumbled and buried his face in his hands. A moment later he felt a hot stinging sensation on his cheek. He looked up at Cossette with his mouth slightly agape. He couldn't believe she had struck him. He was more surprised then angry.

"The self-pity and self-loathing ends here," she stated.

Erik placed his gloved hand where she had slapped him on his uncovered cheek as he looked at her. "How dare you--" he started.

"Why did you try to take what was already yours?" she asked and tapped her foot impatiently.

"What?" Erik asked. He was again lost in the world of confusion and his stinging cheek annoyed him.

She rolled her eyes. "What don't you understand? I practically throw myself at you. Are you so blind? I tell you I love you and you ignore me and brush me off like nothing and some times I feel that you don't even want to be near me, then when we do talk it's always arguing, and I'm sick of it." She paused to breath then continued. "Why do you think I reach out to you? I told you that you are my world and if you would have died…" Her voice trailed off and she stared at the tiled floor.

Erik was unable to speak let alone comprehend what was just said and happened. He was fuming with anger because she struck him, and confused as to how he should take any of what she had just said. His confusion angered and frustrated him more and what she said infuriated him, because he knew it was true. He would deny it until the end; he would not let himself succumb to her reign over him. He could not allow her that power.

Feeling his face growing hot and seeing red, Erik clenched his fists and breathed heavily as he glared at her. "Do not touch me, mademoiselle," he hissed. "I welcomed you into my home, clothed, and fed you. I do not have this type of attitude and behavior coming from you. I won't have it."

Cossette shrank back at his temper. "Erik, stop it," she whined.

Erik clenched his jaw so he wouldn't scream out in aggravation and rage. The monster within was close to resurfacing. He closed his eyes tightly. "You want Erik to stop? He doesn't want to stop. Erik feels betrayed and cornered," he roared.

Cossette only flinched at his words and backed away so that she was leaning against the wooden counter.

Erik moved as close to her as he could get without physically coming in contact with her. His face was inches from hers as he spoke. "You—you vile little whore!" Erik spat in her face.

She shrunk back as far as she could from him, which wasn't much and he moved closer still. She was too frightened to speak and she was insulted that he would ever say that, but fear was more powerful than insult.

"Now Erik wants to play a game," he hissed.

* * *

Ooohh...Kinky, ha. What kind of "game" is Erik talking about? Sounds sexy...I'm just kiddin', but it is a very "fun" game. And no you can't play, sadly. You'll just have to wait for the next chappy. I know...I'm an evil authoress, but you like it. Hehehehe...Stupid, ignorant Cossette...and Sexy, bipolar Erik...Hehehehe...Can you believe Erik used such vulgarity? Shame on him, lol. I thought he was a gentleman, but one can only take so much from our little "lady of the evening". One minute she is all "ahhhhh" then "ggggrrrr" then "Oh, Erik" and then she's all "I'm gonna throw myself at you" then...ugh. She's worse than the fabio fop of a boy and Christine combined! Enough of my ranting.

Thanks for reading and reviewing,

EOL

* * *


	19. Hell

* * *

So..Let the, er, games begin...DUNHHHH...Duhn, dun, dun...

* * *

Chapter 19

Hell

The red glint in Erik's eyes gleamed like that of a polished ruby in the most maddening way. He watched her shift uncomfortably under his gaze.

"Erik—stop—" Cossette breathed as Erik traced her jaw line lightly with his gloved fingers.

"You do not want me to stop," he countered. He continued to caress her cheek and she trembled under his feather light touch. "I know you like this, but it is time to play my game."

Cossette closed her eyes. She was frightened and yet she knew he was right, but this was not. "A game?" she questioned weakly as she shook beneath his touch.

"A game," he confirmed and drew his hand away from her face and ran it gently down her arm, which caused her to tense, then dropped it at his side. "I know how badly the little whore wants under my mask." Cossette opened her mouth to counter his insult, but he silenced her with a finger to her lips. "We mustn't be so eager," he mocked.

She glared at him and pushed his hand away.

"Ah, yes, the game," he paused for a moment. "You want under my mask? You wish to see the distorted and tortured soul within?" he asked. "Yes, you want to see that monster. You want me to let you in," he answered for her while she stared at him.

She nodded dumbly. Fear held her tongue.

"Are you most positive?" he mocked. He paused for a moment and acted as if he was thinking. "Of course you are." Erik moved back from her just enough so she could stand at his full height. "Now we play Erik's game."

She nodded.

"It is quite simple, my little viper. I will ask you questions and you _will_ answer. If the answer is incorrect or not to my liking…it's best if you answer satisfies me," he said. He grinned at her menacingly.

"Okay..." She nodded.

"My first question…a simple one…" He paused and rubbed his stubble that had accumulated on his chin thoughtfully with his thumb and index finger. "Of what age is Cossette?"

Cossette opened her mouth then closed it and stared up at Erik. The way he was talking like a madman was starting to scare her as well as his creepy and maddening grin. It made her feel sick.

"Answer the question," he hissed.

She mumbled some gibberish.

"Speak up," he commanded.

"Twenty-two."

He nodded. "This was already of my knowledge…she was young when she had you…the little Pandora," he mumbled more to himself.

"Erik what are—"

"Do not speak unless I direct a question to you, then only are you to answer. It is a rule of Erik's game," he interrupted.

She nodded and stared at him.

He mumbled something inaudible to himself and began to pace slowly around the kitchen with his hands behind his back. He did this for several minutes then stopped in front of Cossette and stared at her intensely. "How did you come upon my humble dwelling?" he asked.

"The storm…my horse ran off," she replied.

Erik frowned and stared at her. "You lie," he said flatly.

"No, I—"

"Answer the question, my dear," he commanded.

"A friend of my mother's helped me find you," she mumbled.

Erik crossed his arms across his chest and raised an eyebrow in amusement. "Who?"

"She told me not to tell," she replied.

"Ah…was it perhaps the young Meg Giry?" he asked somewhat annoyed.

He recalled that Meg and Christine were the best of friends when they were young ballet-rats and perhaps it was still so. She was always blaming most of the "accidents" and other mishaps that occurred at the Opera Populaire on him. She had everyone convinced that he was at fault for everything little mishap. Yes, he dropped the backdrop on Carlotta. Yes, he tampered with some of the stagecraft. Yes, he harassed and scared people at random for his own enjoyment and made other little "things" happen when his demands were ignored…but he never ever killed anyone for mere enjoyment or sick pleasure…okay…he did on several occasions…

"Was it the Giry girl?" he asked again. No one else knew of him except for Christine, the de Chagny fop, and the Giry's…

"Yes, but—"

"She always had a mouth on her, that girl; "He's here! It's the Phantom of the Opera!," he mocked in a high girlish tone.

"Her mother helped me actually locate you. I asked Meg for help since everyone else said you died in the fire," Cossette retorted.

Erik paused and became lost in thought for a moment then erupted in a mad laughing fit. His maddening chuckle echoed off the walls. Cossette just stood there staring at a madman.

"Dead?" he chuckled. "That is quite amusing. Those ignorant fools! They really think they can rid themselves of the Opera Ghost?"

Cossette shrugged.

As quickly as the burst of laugher came, it left Erik to his indifference. "I assume Madame Giry aided you as well?" he asked.

"Yes, she advised me to stay away from you…"

"And why would she do that?" Erik mused.

"She said…that you are…well…" Cossette mumbled.

"I am what? Do you wish to see what happens when Erik's rules are not obeyed?" he jested.

"Corrupt and dangerous," she answered.

Erik grinned wickedly. He moved closer to Cossette and lightly brushed the side of her neck with the back of his gloved hand. He watched her eyes close upon his touch to his satisfaction. "Do you think that I am corrupt and dangerous, Cossette, my dear?" he asked as stepped back from her.

Cossette shook her head and stepped forward.

"Ah, you don't?" he questioned as she neared him. He stared directly into her deep pools of brown eyes. He had mesmerized her without even trying; she was under his spell.

"Oh, Erik," she mumbled as she moved toward him and stopped when she was just far enough away not to touch him, but close enough to feel the heat radiating off of his body.

"What do you think of me?" he asked in his seductive baritone voice.

Cossette's eyes traced his build and finally met his intense gaze again. "I think you are dangerous, but mysterious…and brilliant…handsome…" her voice trailed off. She reached out and laid her petite hand upon his left cheek.

Erik held her intense gaze and placed his gloved hand over hers. His flesh was hot against her warm hand; he felt himself melting into her touch. "Oh, Cossette," he mumbled.

"Erik…" She moved closer to him yet and rested her other hand on his chest.

Erik felt his heat flutter and his blood begin to boil as she touched him. He closed his eyes upon the sensation. "We haven't finished Erik's game," he said huskily.

"We can play that later," Cossette replied.

Erik opened his eyes and stared into hers; searching for answers. What he saw only escalated the sensation he already felt building within him. He was met with longing and desire that matched his own. He opened his mouth to speak, but instead surprised Cossette by grabbing her around the waist and pulled her up against him.

He pressed his form against her smaller feminine frame and held her to him tightly. He tangled one of his hands in her messy brown locks. He pressed his masked face into her hair and inhaled deeply; lilacs. The other he hand clasped around her waist holding her to him tightly. She in turn wrapped both of her arms around his neck and buried her face in his collar.

He could feel her heavy breath on his neck and felt her trembling against him. His own body shook slightly from the escalating desire and lust they both were experiencing. Never had he felt so strong a need or emotion. He needed her, he had to have her.

"Cossette, I need you ," he whispered into her hair.

He felt her lips move on his neck as she spoke, "As I need you, Erik."

He easily lifted Cossette in his arms with one arm under her and the other supporting her back. She kept her arms wrapped around his neck as he carried her down the hallway and into the den. The walk seemed to take an eternity.

Erik set Cossette on her feet and before she could question him he pressed her to the nearest wall. He nuzzled her neck lightly and began to trace the nape of her neck with his fingers in the lightest of touches. He was refraining from claiming her lips as his own. He wasn't sure how much longer he could control himself before he would break the tension. "Cossette, if you do not want me I--"

"Shhh…Erik. I want this," she murmured.

"I will cease this if you are unsure," he replied quietly as he nuzzled her neck again.

She leaned in the opposite direction opening her neck to him. "I'm sure," she mumbled.

Erik pressed his lips gently to the soft fiery skin of her neck. She shuddered under his soft touch. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he left a trail of feather light kisses down her neck and across to her collarbone where he stopped and pulled from her slightly to gaze into her eyes.

Before he could utter a word, Cossette pressed her lips to his in a long, but passionate kiss. Erik met her with equal intensity. He pressed his lips to hers more forcefully this time. He pressed her against the wall harder and she pulled him closer to her as their kiss intensified. Erik pulled back to catch a quick intake of air before taking her lips as his own again.

As their kiss deepened, Erik beckoned entrance to her mouth with his tongue to which she was only to willing to allow him. He explored her mouth as she ran a hand through his disheveled hair. His grip on her tightened as their tongues danced around each other in a slow waltz.

Erik pulled back from her leaving her breathless and himself gasping for breath. He felt his chest grow heavy and his lungs beg him for air. He stared at Cossette whose cheeks flushed the to the deepest of crimson possible.

"That was…Erik…amazing…" she gasped.

He smiled boyishly. "Why, yes, Cossette," he rasped. "Yes it was."

She pulled him back to her and buried her face in his chest. "I love you, Erik," she said softly.

Those very words caused Erik to pull from her violently and distance himself to the other side of the room where he leaned on the mantle with his back to her. He wiped the sweat that had accumulated on his left side of his face on the cuff of his sleeve. He glared into the empty hearth as he gained control over his breathing. He felt Cossette's hand on his shoulder and he shrugged her away.

"Erik?" she questioned softly.

He ignored her and continued glaring into the hearth.

"What is wrong?" she coaxed. "Please tell me."

He whirled around on her. "You want to know what is wrong? How dare you even mention those words! How could you?" he yelled in her face.

She didn't back away from him like he thought she would have, but she stood her ground. "What? I said I love you, and that made you angry?" she asked.

He tore at his hair in frustration and stalked to the other side of the room with Cossette following at his heels. "You cannot love me," he said. His tone was much calmer, but he was emitting much steam.

"And why not?" Cossette questioned.

"You do not know of this monster that lies within," he replied sadly and turned to look at her. Tears had formed in his eyes and were falling down his cheeks and from underneath his mask.

"Oh, Erik," Cossette mumbled and tried to comfort him in a small embrace, but he pushed her arms away. "You are not a monster," she said softly. "You are a gentle man, brilliant, kind, and handsome."

He shook his head sadly and brushed away his tears. "You do not know of the horrors I have committed nor the life I have lived. I do not deserve this or you, my dear," he mumbled. "I bring corruption and destruction to everything I touch."

"No, no, Erik," she said as she placed her hands on both sides of his masked face. "That is not true. You are a good man; I care deeply for you, Erik."

He sighed and pulled her hands down from his face. "I cannot allow you to love me, Cossette. You couldn't understand," he replied sadly.

"Oh, my poor Erik," she whispered as tears began to fall down her face. "Let me in, please," she begged him.

Erik felt a sudden burst of anger resurface and he turned back to her. "You want me to let you in? You want to see this monster? You wish to be subject to this torture with me?" he spat.

"Erik--"

"I will bring you to my level of hell, my dear. You will look upon me and flee in disgust and fear as all of the others have," he growled. He placed one gloved hand on his mask. "Now you will see, no one can love a monster."

"Erik, don't--"

At that instant, Erik ripped his white mask from his face and it fell to the floor with a sickening thud. Cossette let go of a stifled scream and stared at him in horror as she saw his mask-less face.

"Welcome to Hell," he hissed venomously.

* * *

I leave off at the worst parts...I know...Anybody wanna go to Hell and skip rope with Erik and me? Thanks for reading and reviewing.

Happy Day,

EOL

* * *


	20. Anguish

* * *

My sincerest apologizes in taking so long to update. I had Internet issues then I went camping. I even ate a whole bag of Smarties...Ugh my head hurt. Well...Here goes...It's not as long as normal, but I updated so just read.

* * *

Chapter 20

Anguish

Now, the man that stood before Cossette was not the kind and brilliant gentleman she knew, but a demon that had been awakened from the dark depths of Hell itself. A dark shadow seemed to loom over Erik's marred face. Hatred, anger, malice, and loathing danced in his wild eyes that no longer held the beautiful green burning orbs; a murderous red glint had taken over.

The porcelain half-face white mask lay discarded on the floor a small distance from Erik's feet. He stood not at his full height, but tall enough to intimidate Cossette. He looked as though he would lunge at her any moment.

Cossette stared at Erik in horror at his mask-less face. She shrank back from him. His marred face was gruesome and repulsive to look upon. The twisted flesh…the craters and deformed skin made Cossette ill. Erik could see the revulsion on her face and that angered him more. Erik stalked toward her and leaned right into her face. Cossette closed her eyes, unable to look at the creature in front of her.

"Look at me," Erik growled.

Cossette turned her head away from him.

"Look at the monster you have unleashed. Stare into the eyes of the beast," Erik sang darkly.

Cossette's refusal to look at him only fueled his rage.

Erik grabbed her arms and shook her roughly. "Are you frightened, my dear?" he spat. "Does this distortion satisfy you? Feast your eyes! Glut your soul on my accursed repulsiveness!"

Cossette shook her head and tried to pull from his iron grip to no avail. She kept her eyes closed tightly and refused to look at him. Tears began to well in her eyes, but she held them back. She didn't want to give him any satisfaction in frightening her.

"You were cautioned of this distortion, but you refused to heed my warning," he hissed. His grip tightened on her arms and she let out a small yelp of pain, but Erik didn't lessen his grip.

"Erik, stop," she rasped. "You're hurting me."

"Open your eyes and gaze upon this monster," he retorted. "You wanted under the mask...now look!"

She shook her head and remained defiant.

He released her, but forced her face to look at him with a single gloved finger. She refused to meet his gaze as he began to sing. "This is what you wanted…what you desired from the start…you wished to see a broken man…and the fiend beneath his skin…" He paused and walked to the other side of the room. With his back to her he continued.

"Underneath this mask, you see the distortion… this face infection…this face…" Erik's angered was replaced with sadness and self-pity. He leaned his forehead on the cold wall and kept his back to Cossette. "This face… which earned a mother's fear and loathing... a mask…my first unfeeling scrap of clothing," he sang brokenly as these words brought back so many unwanted and heartbreaking memories. "It poisoned my love…it drove her away… my distortion…and now…I am subject to your rejection…"

Erik felt the hot tears burning down his cheeks. He turned to look back at Cossette who stood watching him with her tearstained face. He leaned back on the wall and sunk down until he was sitting on the floor. He covered his marred face in his hands and continued to weep. There was a long silence besides the horrid sound of Erik sobbing.

After he had gathered himself, Erik covered his marred side with one gloved hand and found his voice. "You are cursed to suffer my dark fate...with me," he mumbled. He replaced his face in his hands.

He did not notice Cossette approaching him. He looked up to see her grim expression. She turned her head away as she held out his mask to him. Erik slowly reached for it and stood. He turned away from her as he replaced it on his face so that his distortion was once gain hidden.

Erik turned back to her slowly. His anger was gone and all was left was a broken and grief stricken man. There were no words that would amend what had ensued. There were no actions that could make it lessen. Erik stared down at his feet and then he looked back up at Cossette. No words came to him nor an explanation or an apology.

Out of all of the times when Erik had needed the human comfort of touch, he needed it now. He needed someone to hold him and tell him he wasn't alone. He needed someone to tell him that he mattered and to see that there is a man behind the monster.

Hesitantly, Cossette reached out and placed her hand gently on his arm. "Erik?" she questioned.

Erik looked at her sadly. "I am but a monster," he replied.

"No you are not," she said firmly despite her fear that still burned in her eyes.

"You refuse to look upon the distortion—this face infection that I am plagued with," he said quietly. "I frighten you…you are repulsed and wish to escape from this hell." Tears formed in his eyes again.

She shook her head and squeezed his shoulder in reassurance. "Everything will be fine, Erik," she said shakily.

"No, it won't," he sobbed. "Everything is damned." He sulked off toward his room before more could be said or done. He closed the door and latched it behind him. He fell into his desk chair and sobbed into his arms; burying his masked face. He sobbed for his curse, for his never ending torture, his distortion, for the love he would never know, and for Cossette. Erik eventually cried himself to fatigue.

***

Erik awoke the next morning with a stiff neck and his mask askew. He sat up straight and readjusted his mask and put it back into place. He stood and stretched his long legs and arms. He started pacing back and forth in long strides across his room.

It was all clear to him now. He would either return Cossette to her father so she would be safe from his corruption and risk the authorities finding him after all of these years or his nemesis, Raoul, exposing or trying to end him again. Or he would bind her chains to him and keep her as his prisoner forever.

Erik shook his head to clear away the thoughts as he continued to pace back and forth. Because of his face infection, he would lose her. He would not let her love him nor would he allow himself to succumb to her. No one can love a monster.

Hot tears burned in his eyes, but he held them back as he began to sing quietly and brokenly, "To pain my heart selfishly dooms me, my senses have devoured my soul. This cruel love tortures, consumes me, love I know I will never control…"

* * *

I've been doing so more research if you will and have been making some interesting finds...hehehe. I cannot disclose unsaid information at this time due to it being top secret and it will be held between Erik and myself. If asked about said findings I will be forced into having Erik execute severe punishment and no it will not be enjoyable. Keep the hand at the level of your eyes! Muahahaha.

Happy Day,

EOL

p.t.o.

Erik's monkey music box has come up missing again and he has been throwing temper tantrums like a four-year-old and he refuses to come out of his lair. So if anyone hears anything please notify me immediately.

* * *


	21. Woe

* * *

I've been camping since school's been out and I finally had a chance to return to town to update! I'm not sure how long it will be until I do again for I am returning to camp later today! Enjoy this here chappy! *cues theme music and dances around like a moron on morphine*

* * *

Chapter 21

Woe

It has been five days. How anyone can stay in solitude for five entire days without leaving the confines of their room is beyond Cossette's comprehension. She thought Erik was just having another tantrum or just going through one of his bad moods that he would get over and act as though nothing had happened, like always. He hadn't even left once even to consume food or anything else for that matter. It was obvious there was more to him this time than she thought.

Cossette actually found herself…dare she admit it? Yes, terribly lonely without Erik. She was not quite sure herself why, and she found it very odd that she had become accustomed to Erik being in the den waiting for her in the morning. She missed his stories of unknown lands like that of Persia and his boundless wisdom of life and such, but what she missed most was his mere presence.

No, Cossette would not forget the horror of looking upon Erik's marred face. It had scared her and surprised her, but she knew a time would come when she would see under his mask and at first she was not too sure if she could ever look at him the same way again, but then again she felt a very strong emotion toward Erik. Whenever Erik neared her, her heartbeat quickened…when he touched her she could feel the fire ignite within her soul…and when he kissed her…that was sheer bliss.

But, would she be able to see the man under the mask and past the monster? That is indeed the question.

***

It was midday, Cossette sat in the gloomy den in her normal seat. The curtains were closed, blocking out all sunlight. The hearth was empty and the air was depressing.

Cossette hugged her knees to her chest and stared into the empty space in front of her. She was utterly lonely and bored beyond belief. How she longed for Erik's company, but after last night she was not too sure what she wanted anymore. Her head screamed at her to flee from the monster and her heart told her to…well…she wasn't too sure herself. On several occasions, Cossette thought about going to Erik's door and knocking on it and begging him to come out and to quit punishing her with his solitude, but anytime she got near his room she turned away at the last second unable to complete her task.

Cossette couldn't bare it any longer. She needed Erik and she desired to at least hear him if she couldn't lay her eyes on him, but she was frightened of him as well as disgusted. She thought of his face and the nausea resurfaced. She wondered if he had died in his room, but she knew that was unlikely.

After mentally preparing herself, Cossettestood and walked slowly toward Erik's door. She stopped in front of it and reached out a trembling hand and stopped. Was she really going to beg him to speak to her? Was she really going to give him the satisfaction that she was weak and needed him? Yes, she was.

She reached out to knock on the door, but stopped when she heard a low moaning sound. It sounded horrible, then she recognized as Erik--and was he…singing? Cossette froze and listened.

"Woe onto those who know compassion…and love…Woe onto those he have a real face…Woe onto those who know nothing of Hell! Hell is not a place…it has a name…it has a face…" Erik's voice trailed off from his broken song.

Cossette now regretted coming to his door. His words sliced her like a knife and she felt guilty. Erik sounded broken as he sang. Sudden worry took over Cossette and she knocked lightly.

There was no answer.

"Erik?" she called as she knocked again. All grew silent on the other side of the door, but she tried again. "Erik, please don't punish me this way," she pleaded.

Still no answer.

As soon as Cossette turned the door opened slowly behind her. She turned around quickly to see Erik standing in the doorway. He was wearing a fresh dark suit, his hair was slicked back neatly, and he no longer had the stubble that had accumulated on his chin, but he seemed different…

***

Indifference settled in on Erik's features as he stared at Cossette. He shifted so he was partially looming over her giving him that sense of dominance. "Yes?" he asked calmly.

Cossette stared at him dumbly for a moment before answering. "Hello, Erik," she said lamely as the horrid image of his face faded from her mind.

"If that is all, I have some work to see to," he said crisply as he started to close the door, but Cossette's hand caught it.

"Wait," she said quickly.

Erik paused.

"Don't go," she pleaded.

"Whatever are you talking about, mademoiselle?" he asked as he crossed his arms across his strong chest.

"Please don't leave me alone again," she pleaded. Cossette fidgeted with the hem of her dress like a young girl, Erik mused silently to himself.

"I haven't left you alone, dear girl. Now of you don't mind, I'm busy," he said.

"What is wrong with you?" Cossette asked in sudden anger.

Erik's face remained indifferent. "Are you ill?" he asked as he stared at her.

Cossette threw her hands up in frustration. "Am I ill? Do I look ill, Erik?" she asked and quickly added, "No, don't answer that". She took a moment to catch her breath while Erik watched.  
"Are you sure? You don't look to well, my dear. Perhaps--"

"There is nothing wrong with me! I am not ill," she nearly screamed at him. "What is wrong with you? You've been in your room for five days and…"

"I'm sorry, my dear. What do wish for me to do about it?" he asked as he rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

"I want you to quit avoiding and ignoring me," she growled.

"Is that so?" he questioned.

"No, Erik. I hate you and I never want to see you again," she said sarcastically.

"Very well." With that Erik closed the door in her face and latched it behind him.

"Erik!" Cossette yelled and banged on the door. Erik ignored her and sat back down at his desk and began to sketch away at a piece of parchment as he hummed to himself.

"Erik! Open this door! Quit acting like a pigheaded fool!"

After that last insult, Erik appeared at his door and swung it open and glared at Cossette. "Do you dare insult me?" he bellowed.

"I was merely trying you to open the door so I might talk to you, but the only way I can get your attention is if I anger you," she retorted.

"What do you want?" he growled. This girl was annoying him so horribly he thought he could strangle her on the spot. "Let me guess…you wish to torture me yet again with your so called "love". You know nothing of love, my dear. Lust perhaps, but not love."

"I simply missed you, Erik," she answered quietly.

Erik sighed. "You don't know of what you speak, dear girl. Now leave me be," he commanded.

"Please don't be this way, Erik," she pleaded. "I'm sorry alright? I'm sorry I cringed away at your face…you scared me alright? I'm shallow, but I got to thinking when you left me alone… I thought a lot and I don't care about that, Erik. I don't care about your face," she said. "It does hold terror for me now, but I can get over it."

Erik stared at her for a moment and searched her face for answers, but he came up with nothing, but more confusion. He shook his head to clear away unwanted thoughts. _How dare she speak of my face!_ "This was a mistake…on my part for letting you reside here with me. It was most inappropriate and my sincerest apologies for making advances on you. I meant no harm to come to you during you stay," he said bluntly.

"It was not a mistake," Cossette exclaimed. "I have forgiven you for what you have done, Erik. It is in the past. It's alright now. Don't you see? I want to stay here with you."

"I'm afraid it cannot be so," Erik said as he shifted his weight so he was leaning lazily on the door frame.

"And why not?" Cossette demanded.

Erik paused for a moment and gathered himself once again. "I don't wish to discuss it, Cossette. Now please leave me. I have much work--"

Cossette stepped forward and hastily planted a kiss to Erik's lips and then stared up at him with her large brown eyes.

Erik stared at her for a moment and marveled in the sensation of her red lips against his. As always, it was sheer bliss. She had an unfair advantage over him and he envied her for it. Had he not told himself he would not succumb to her reign over him?

Erik tore his eyes from hers as he became angered at himself for letting her interrupt him. "You play an interesting game, my dear, but you cannot win," he growled. "Do not look upon me with those innocent eyes; they cheat and lie!"

"Are you saying my feelings for you are false?" she asked.

Erik heard the hurt in her voice and felt guilty. "I cannot continue living this way, my dear. It hurts too much. You could never understand," he replied gently.

Cossette reached out and touched his arm lightly. "I could if you let me in, Erik," she coaxed.

Erik paused for a moment. This would be it; the final test. This would be the deciding factor as to if Cossette stayed or if she was to be returned to her father. He took a moment to gather himself completely. "As you wish," he said as he moved out of the way motioning for Cossette to enter his room. She followed all to quickly for his liking.

"Sit," he said gesturing to the bed.

Cossette silently obeyed.

Erik began to pace back and forth in front of her. He would occasionally stop and stare at her, shake his head as if he were disappointed, and then continue pacing. He wasn't sure if he could go through with this now, but he had to know. It would be his deciding fate as well as hers.

Erik paced the length of his room one final time and stopped in front of Cossette. "How am I to know that you will not leave me?" he finally asked.

Cossette stared up at him. "You just have to trust me, Erik," she replied sounding like a child.

"Hhmmm," Erik mused to himself. "Trust is something that is earned over time, my dear and I'm afraid I cannot."

"Don't you think I would have left already, if I wanted to, Erik?" she countered.

That hadn't occurred to Erik. _Yes, she could have left, but instead she stays. Why?_ He shook his head. "Why do you stay?" he asked.

"Because I can't bring myself to leave you alone," she replied.

"So it is pity," Erik said disappointedly. He turned from her and paced to his dresser and glared at himself in his mirror. His white mask mocked and laughed at him. Erik felt a small pressure on his arm and turned slightly to see Cossette had risen and was now holding on to his arm. "Cossette--" he started.

"I do not pity you, Erik," she said softly. "I did feel sorry for you at first, but that feeling is longer here. I can't bring myself to leave you alone…because…"

Erik shrugged her hand away and stared back into his mirror, where his mask teased him; a forever reminding veil that he was a monster, never to be normal or beautiful in any way…to never experience anything of a normal life that he so desired. "This repulsive carcass before you…how can you bare to look at me after what you have seen?" he asked sadly. His gaze never left his mirror.

"You are still, Erik to me whether you have a face or not," she mumbled.

Erik ignored her and paced over to his window and gazed out at the autumn colored trees that now lay bare and awaiting winter's first snowfall. "Prove it," he said crisply.

"Erik?" Cossette questioned weakly from the other side of the room.

His gaze never faltered from the scene that lay beyond the window. "Prove your love."

* * *

I apologize for my spelling and grammar errors. I didn't really read this one over; I just wanted to get it out before I left so you guys and gals are lucky. I think I left off on an interesting enough note...

Happy Day,

EOL

_*NOTE I: I am always open for suggestions on what may/could happen next... For now I be stuck. I'll think about it while I'm at camp..._

_**NOTE II: As you've guessed it and some have been waiting for it... I do believe it's time to move on from "T" if you will. I'm not sure if it will be next chappy, but I'm just warning you all ahead of time and I will warn you again when I decided to do so. Erik and Cossette can only fight and quarrel for so long... Perchance their relationship will blossom or will something drastic occur and change everything? Hhhmmm... I'm not entirely sure myself what will happen yet. Muahahaha._

***_NOTE III: I am pleased to announce that dearest Erik's monkey music-box has been returned and that all is well...for now..._

_****NOTE IV: I think I messed up the numbers, but I just loves notes!_

* * *


	22. Release

* * *

My apologizes for taking so long to update. I was at camp and I return tomorrow and I don't know when I will be back again. I have removed two stories from my fic list. Do not fret, I'm keeping these that are left and the ones I removed will come back at a later date. Well...I got this chappy out as soon as I could and I don't like where I left off either. It was rushed so excuse my errors and such. Ugh. The confrontation and all that jazz comes next chappy. Enough with my rambling and on with the show! Yay for Erik angst!

* * *

Chapter 22

Release

Erik slowly turned to face Cossette. He leaned back lazily on the window pane so it supported most of his weight. He stared at her intently; waiting. It was all up to her now whether or not that she would remain with him or he would turn her out back into the world, which had long ago shunned him.

There was silence save for the nervous breathing of Cossette. Erik watched her with never straying and intense eyes. Waiting was the most horrid task. It seemed like an eternity as Erik observed Cossette's uncertainty and fear? He would either rid himself of her now and spare himself the heartache or she would remain with him. The silence became unbearable for Erik. "You speak your love, now prove what you claim."

Cossette hesitated at first as she began to cross the room to where Erik was. She stopped a safe yard from him. Erik stayed perfectly still as he watched her. He couldn't allow her to see any emotion nor could allow himself to be venerable. He would not make any movements nor any advances. This had to be completely of her own accord and choosing.

Erik straightened himself and stood up at his full towering height as his eyes continued to burn into Cossette. "Make your choice," he whispered. He watched as Cossette finally closed the short distance between them.

She stood close enough for him to be intoxicated by her aroma, which he tried so hard to ignore, and far away enough to where she wasn't physically touching him. She stared up at him with mixture of emotions in her deep brown eyes that Erik couldn't decipher. She was visibly trembling as she stood there in front of him like a small child that knew she had been caught doing something wrong and was awaiting her scolding.

Erik felt his heart sink. He hadn't meant for it to be like this. He wanted her to prove her love to him of her own accord, but he was forcing her into it…but he needed an answer and he needed it now. "Prove you love me," he said more gently.

He watched as she raised a trembling hand and let it rest on the left side of his face. He closed his eyes upon her touch. Her small hand felt light and warm on his flesh. Her mere touch alone intoxicated him. He opened his eyes to see that silent tears were falling down her cheeks. He searched her eyes as to what was wrong, but he came up short. She dropped her hand from his face and just stood there in front of him with her tearstained face staring up at him.

Erik tired so hard not to let her tears sway him. He looked past her, but found her gaze eating away at him. He felt so small and feeble as she looked up at him. He didn't want to deal with the tears again, nor what came after, and against his better judgment, because he couldn't take it when she cried; he grasped her small hands in his larger and gloved ones and pulled her gently against him and wrapped his arms around her.

His heart sank as he felt her tense against him and not cling to him like she would normally. She stood numbly in his arms as he held her. There were no sobs or sniffles of any kind, just silence, which made him worry. He released her and turned her face up to his so he might search her eyes, but what he saw only made it worse. Erik was at a loss. This is what he had been afraid of. He had lost her due to his distortion. He felt tears brewing in his own eyes.

"I am sorry, my dear," he said quietly so he wouldn't risk his voice cracking. "I shouldn't ask this of you…" He voice trailed off and he resisted the urge to break down and crumple on the spot. What would be said next pained him and he did not want to go through with.

Erik closed his eyes to hold back the tears that threatened to fall. "Cossette, my dear, I will return you to your--your father" he almost choked on his own words, "I will do so on one accord," he voice wavered as he spoke. He opened eyes and looked at Cossette who had downcast her eyes to the floor.

"Please look at me, Cossette," he mumbled.

She did as she was told, but she refused to meet his eyes.

It pained Erik that she wouldn't meet his gaze. "I've never received compassion from anyone…nor love of another. This face infection that poisons our love also denies me the joys of the flesh. Perhaps, I am to live my life alone…" He paused to gather himself. "Is it so wrong for me to desire the love of another?"

Cossette finally met his eyes and Erik saw the tears continued to streak down her face. She shook her head.

"I will release you, but…" He voice trailed off.

"What do you want?" she asked.

"I want you to love me."

"Erik," she mumbled.

"Cossette."

She shook her head and adverted her eyes.

"You will love me or you will not leave," he said darkly.

She looked back up at him. "No."

"What did you say?" he questioned.

"I said no, Erik," she said softly.

Erik was about to open his mouth to speak when Cossette moved closer to him and placed a gentle kiss to his lips. While he marveled in the heavenly sensation, he felt her wrap both of her arms snuggly around his neck as she kissed him again. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her up against him as their kiss became more passionate. He leaned back on the window pane and she moved closer and pressed herself against his form.

The protests of only a few moments before were lost to Erik as he became intoxicated and lost by Cossette's kisses. He beckoned entrance against her lips with his tongue and she was only to eager to let him in. As their tongues danced in a slow waltz, Erik tangled one hand in her brown locks and the other was placed at the small of her back, holding her to him.

In turn, Cossette wrapped her arms tighter around Erik's neck as their embrace became more passionate. Erik felt himself melting into her and as their kiss intensified, he felt that heated desire build up within in him. Her spark had ignited the flames of passion yet again in the former opera ghost.

Suddenly, Erik lifted Cossette easily in his arms and without breaking their embrace he laid her gently down on his bed. He paused and took a moment to stare at his young lover. "Will you love me?" he asked from where he stood next to the bed.

She didn't answer, but grabbed his hand. He let her pull him down so that he lie next to her. He then moved so he was looming over her. How could he corrupt something so perfect and innocent? Erik shook away the thoughts as his feral male need took over and his hunger for her grew immensely. He pulled her gently closer to him. He needed to again taste that same sweetness, once again.

Erik desire for her grew every second he held onto her. He looked at her hungrily and he was met with the same hunger and lust in her eyes. He covered her mouth with his; crushing her against him. He enjoyed the warmth and taste of her. While he caressed her neck with one hand, she enlaced her fingers in his hair and pulled him closer to deepen their kiss. Erik broke the kiss and buried his face in the crook of her neck. He remained still and quiet for a moment as Cossette wrapped her arms around him and held him close…

* * *

See? I hate where I left off. Please don't eat me (or Punjab me). It's all fluffy and stuff and I'm really immature and I'm like ewww the whole time. Hahaha. It gets interesting next chappy. Again, my apologizes for cutting off here and as soon as I get back, which might be around the holiday, I will update. Until then, I send my love and Erik kisses to everyone! Except aloserinthebackofthemathclass... You can have V cubed. Oh, and Reccie: you can have my cookies as long as Erik didn't eat them yet. Teehehe. They are chocolate chip! Thanks for reading and reviewing, everyone!

Happy Day (or Not),

EOL =)

* * *


	23. Nemesis

* * *

My apologizes to everyone for not updating. I was ill and working.

Just to clear up some things that are bugging me: Yes, Erik is fifty-four and yes, Cossetteis like twenty-twoish. For one thing love knows no age. And for another Erik is a sexy beastie even though he has aged a tad bit. C'mon, Gerry is still gonna be sexy when he's older and so is Erik. He's like Sean Connery; godlike. So by my ruling: ERIK WILL REMAIN A SEXY BEASTIE FOREVER! NO QUESTIONS ASKED! And for the last thing: Erik is not a pervert. Get over it! You people and your warped minds!

Okay...now that I'm done ranting a bit, read on!

* * *

Chapter 23

Nemesis

"You said no," he murmured against her neck.

"Yes," she replied quietly and hugged him tighter.

Erik pulled back from her completely and turned over so his back was to her as he laid on his side. He felt her snuggle up behind him and wrap her arms around his torso. "Leave me be," he all but spat.

"Erik?" Cossette questioned he sudden change in demeanor.

"You said you would not love me," he mumbled.

"I cannot love you in the way you want me to, Erik."

Erik turned so he was facing Cossette and he held her hands in his gloved ones. "Why not?" he asked as he stared into Cossette's eyes, searching for answers beyond his reach.

"I cannot," she replied simply and leaned forward to kiss him, but Erik recoiled and pulled his hands from her as if her mere touch burned him. He rose from the bed in one swift and graceful motion. Tears burned down his cheeks as he paced. He kept his face from her.

"Erik?"

Anger blended in with Erik's tears and he ignored her. _I cannot love you the way you want me to, Erik._Her words hurt, angered, and confused him all the more. Cossette was supposed to be his second chance, but alas, all she brought forth was more heartache and torture. _Just like Christine…_ He continued to pace.

The last time he saw Christine flooded into his mind. She had kissed him just so he would let her go with her lover. She had even begged her "God" to give her courage to do so. That hurt him, but he lingered in the sweet bliss while it lasted for those few short moments. He was then forced to watch Christine leave with that damned boy and it pained him to watch them go. It hurt worse when the began to profess their love for each other once again; in song.

And if it wasn't enough, she had to return…the ring…

"Erik?" Cossette's voice interrupted his thoughts and painful memories.

He kept his face from her and started toward his door. "Come," he commanded.

Cossette moved from his bed and followed at his heels as he walked into the den. Erik threw his cloak around his shoulders and he handed Cossette her shawl without looking at her. He pulled up his hood so it shadowed his mask.

With that he opened the door and walked hastily to the stables as the cold air burned his skin. He quickly set Cicero as the cold wind whipped at his face and swirled his cape around him dramatically. Cicero gave a disapproving grunt as Cossette neared.

Erik mounted Ciceroand reached down for Cossette's hand. He pulled her up onto Ciceronot as gently as he could have. Cicero snorted again and glared back at Erik as Cossette situated herself. After he settled her in front of him and took hold of the reins, Erik dug his heels into Cicero's sides.

Cossette gasped as Cicero bolted off toward the dusty road. She pulled her shawl tighter around herself and gripped Cicero's black mane tightly for the fear of falling off.

Erik glared into the space in front of him as Cicero rode on. The icy wind whipped and teased him. He felt Cossette lean back against him in an attempt to stay warm. Erik let go of the reins with one hand and pulled his cape so that it draped around Cossette and himself to shield them from the merciless elements.

They continued their escapade in silence. Erik jerked the reins and rounded a quick turn which startled Cossette and she gripped Erik's thigh with one hand. He tensed and dug his heels even harder into Cicero's sides, which made the tame beast whiney in compliance and sprint of again.

As they neared Paris, Erik pulled back gently on the reins which caused Cicero to slow to a moderate trot. Erik maneuvered Cicero down the crowded streets of Paris, past his fellow Frenchmen, whom he despised, and down one street after another. He rounded the last corner and the de Chagny Estate was brought into view.

By the time Erik was nearly at the front gates, Cossette was leaning against his chest and had her hands wrapped in his cloak. The closeness of her madeErik rethink what he was doing, but when she saw the house she sat up and crushed Erik's hopes. Cicero came to a stop near the great iron gates. The two just sat there in a tense silence.

Erik sighed as he dismounted Cicero. He looked up at the large mansion and became smitten with envy of the insolate boy and his wealth that was handed to him. Erik silently cursed his name. He then turned and helped Cossette down. The two stood; Erik staring at Cossette as she stared up at her home.

"Go," Erik urged softly.

Cossette turned and looked at him. Her face was streaked with tears again and she was trembling slightly. "Erik I--"

"Go, now," he said more firmly. Saying goodbye to her was already difficult and her tears and protests made it even harder and more heart breaking. "Now."

She nodded and threw herself into Erik, which almost knocked him over, but he somehow caught her. She buried her face in his chest and clenched his cloak in her small fists as she sobbed.

Erik pulled back from the sobbing girl and leaned his back on the iron gates and stared down at the ground. The inner war within himself continued. It then occurred to him that he could take her back and hide her from the world and there wouldn't be a thing she or anyone else could do about it. The thought was tempting, but Cossettedidn't belong in his world, in his dark, in his solitude. It wouldn't be fair to her.

Then another thought occurred to Erik. It was perfect! He looked up at Cossette and just as he did so an annoyingly familiar voice called "Cossette," from the house.

Erik cursed his former rival and quickly pulled Cossette to him. He knew he would have to be quick if he did not want a confrontation with the de Chagnyfop. He reached inside his breast pocket and pulled out Christine's ring that she had given him. He watched as Cossette's eyes were mesmerized by the luminous beauty of the trinket. He wasn't sure he was ready to give the last piece of Christine left away, but he could not dwell on the past…

"Love is something we all desire, but only a few find that sheer bliss." Erik paused and took one of Cossette's hands in on of his gloved ones. "I desire a companion-- someone to love me and someone for me to love in return. My heart bleeds for another and I will surly die if I am rejected once again."

"Erik, what are you asking of me?" Cossette's tears had subsided.

"Love me."

"Erik, you know I do," she replied as she searched his shadowed face for answers.

There was a very long pause as Erik prepared himself for the next two words that would seal his fate. "Marry me."

Cossette's eyes widened as she stared at Erik. "I don't know what to say…"

"Say yes," Erik said quietly.

"But, Erik--"

Erik's old nemesis interrupted again with calling his daughter's name and yelling something at the shadowed figure he couldn't see; demanding a name. Erik waved it off and opened Cossette's hand and placed the ring in her hand and closed it gently. He brushed a quick kiss on her knuckles and released her.

Erik quickly spoke before Cossette could protest and before the fop could reach them. "You have three days to make your choice. I suggest you think it over thoroughly," he whispered. "Until then, my dear." He readjusted his hood and hastily left her there, standing all alone while her father made his way to the gates, Cicero bolted off.

* * *

Yes, still short and rushed. My apologizes for errors and such. And yes THAT just happened. Thanks for reading and reviewing, mes amis!

Happy Day,

EOL

p.s. I haven't the slightest idea when I will be able to update again, but I will as soon as I can. Thanks for being patient with me.

p.p.s. The reason that I cube "v" is because of Victor Vaan Valmont. Now you know. He is a sexy vampire of DOOM.

* * *


	24. Damnable

* * *

I have returned! Duhn, duhn, duhn...DUHN! My sincerest apologizes, my dears. I am back and will be updating much faster now. Never fear! E.O.L. is here!

Since I just got back and have other things to take care of, I have written a little tid bit compared to normal. Read on...

* * *

Chapter 24

Damnable

The house shook with the sudden clamor of glass shattering.

Inside, Erik stalked back and forth; from one room to another. "Three!?" he bellowed as he ceased pacing, stopping in front of the hearth, and pulled at his hair in frustration. His voice echoed of the walls and came back and slapped him in the face. "Three days." Erik groaned and threw himself down in his usual seat. He covered his eyes with one gloved hand and gripped the arm of the chair with the other.

After sitting in bitter silence for a long moment, Erik sighed and opened his eyes. He glanced around as if to reassure himself that he was indeed awake. He let loose of another low sigh and stared into the blank space before him. "Three days…" He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Three days," he repeated to himself. Erik closed his eyes and leaned back into the comfort of the old armchair. "How foolish I have become," he growled at himself.

"How could I ask Coss--her to marry me?" Erik opened his eyes and stared at the dark ceiling. He couldn't even bare to say her name. "Why three days? Three days without her…three days of Hell. Why did I return her to her father? Ignorant fop…"

Erik could not understand why his nerves were at an end, nor why he couldn't think clearly. His mind was clouded with thoughts of Cossette that harassed and teased him relentlessly. His mind was already going through the worse case scenarios. _What if she says "no"? What if the insolate boy interferes once again? _

Those thoughts and dozens more tormented Erik's mind and weakened his hopes of Cossette accepting his proposal. He had already decided that if she refused him he would surely die. It occurred to him that if she refused him no one else could have her either; he would kill her and then end himself as well. The very idea of death oddly comforted Erik in a way, which made him feel sick.

Erik shook his head to clear away such thoughts. "She belongs to me," he said quietly to himself in an attempt to comfort himself. His stress level reached an all time high for Erik and his weary and exhausted mind drifted away as he feel into a light sleep.

***

Erik opened his eyes sleepily. "Cossette," he mumbled to himself. Erik sat up and the realization that he had been dreaming of her settled in. Erik sighed as he stretched his long legs out in front of him and crossed his arms in disappointment.

Never had waiting been such Hell for Erik before. Most of his life consisted of plotting and waiting, but know three days seemed so far away. How Cossette had the power, even in her absence, over his emotions and mind both amazed and angered Erik. To think a young girl had power over him…

Erik rested his face in his hands. He missed her. He could not deny it. He missed her voice…and the touch of her soft skin against his…and the feeling of her being so close. The way her body molded perfectly against his and…the taste of her kisses…that innocence…

Erik lifted his head and brushed away the tears that fell from behind his mask. He missed her and it was tearing him apart even though it had only been one day thus far. He felt in his pocket for his watch. It was a quarter after eleven. He muttered something to himself and replaced the watch to his pocket and stared at the empty hearth. Erik decided to distract himself with making a fire.

After he had constructed one to his liking, Erik sat back down in his chair. He glanced over at Cossette's former spot. He frowned and the tears threatened to fall again, but he held them back. He glared into the hearth at the dancing flames.  
Suddenly, Erik jumped to his feet and began pacing again; back and forth in front of the mantle with his hands behind his back. "How could I? How could I be so--so incompetent? Three days!" His strides quickened and lengthened as he muttered to himself. "What ails me?" He paused and stood in front of the hearth once again.

"Love," his inner voice of reason answered for him.

"No. I won't hear it!" he clasped his head between his gloved hands and fell to his knees. Tears burned down Erik's face and he buried his masked face in his arms. "No, no, no. It can't be!"

After wallowing in sorrow, denial, and anger, Erik composed himself and stood leaning on the hearth. "Why must it be so damned difficult?" he demanded as he slammed his fist down on the hard mantle only to flinch and curse at the pain. "Damn!" He groaned and held his injured fist against his chest. "Damn it all! Damn it all to Hell and then back!" Erik roared in frustration. "And then to Hell once more…and then back…and then to purgatory!"

* * *

Again, my apologizes. The next chappy will be somewhat lengthy because I have slacked for so long. Yay. I find that last little bit that Erik says to be quite amusing. Teehee. Oh...poor Erik and his temper/angst issues. Thanks for reading and reviewing.

Happy Day,

EOL ^_^


	25. A New Hell

* * *

My sincerest apologizes for my absence to you all. I was injured and unable to type let alone do much else. I am fine now and waaay behind. Again, my apologizes.

Just so we are clear: This chapter picks up where Erik left Cossette standing at the de Chagny Estate. I thought you might want to know how Cossette is fairing...

* * *

Chapter 25

A New Hell

Cossette clutched the ring tightly as she watched Erik disappear down the dirt road. Silent tears creep down her cheeks. Her father's voice sounded again, but her eyes were transfixed on the bend where Erik faded away.

A hand fell on her shoulder, which caused her to turn around so abruptly that she almost lost her footing. She was met with an out of breath Raoul who narrowed his eyes once he saw her tearstained face. She had been unaware of his presence.

"Cossette, where have--who was--what are you…" Raoul paused to catch his breath.

Cossettediscreetly tucked the ring into a fold of her cloak before wiping her tears away on the back of her sleeve. She stared at her father not sure of what to say nor of an explanation. What was she to say? _Papa, I have been living with your old nemesis for the past few weeks. You remember; the man who tried to kill you and win mother's heart? Oh, and by the way: he asked me to marry him. _That would go over well.

Instead, she pulled her cloak around herself and observed her father. He looked different since the last time she had seen him; his long golden brown hair was a graying mess that was partially plastered to his forehead, his usual neat attire looked as though he had worn it for a week, and he was an ill color which looked sickly. She assumed it was from the alcohol.

After finally catching his breath Raoul spoke. "Where have you been?"

"Not now, papa." She fought back any comment that might set him off. "Let's get you inside before you catch cold," she managed.

He nodded solemnly.

***

Raoul beckoned for Cossette to follow him into the den which she did obediently. The room was exactly the way it was when she left. The room was completely spotless and neat unlike the appearance of the one she called "papa". It was empty except for one maid who was busy dusting the mantle.

"Elise," Raoul pointed at the maid who looked at him then at Cossette and her eyes widened. "Out." The maid flashed a worried smile at Cossette then she made herself scarce.

Raoul threw himself down on the sofa and stared at his daughter who had not moved but stood under the archway. "Will you not join your father?" he asked. Cossette slowly stepped into the den and seated herself in an armchair across from him. "Sit _here_," he said gesturing to the empty seat beside him on the sofa.

Cossette reluctantly moved to please him. She almost gagged on his stench as she seated herself. He had neglected to take care of himself in her absence. She restrained herself from pulling her cloak to her face. Instead, she limited her intake of air.

Raoul turned toward his daughter and studied her for a moment. Cossette watched as his eyes went from her face to her shaking hands and then back to her eyes. "A father has right to the knowledge of where his only daughter has been in her absence," he said bitterly.

She nodded.

"So due tell me." Cossette opened her mouth to speak, but he held up a hand stopping her. "Or maybe tell me who you where with?"

Cossette stared at him. "A friend," she said with contempt.

Raoul snorted in disgust. "You think of me as blind?"

"No, papa."

"You think I didn't see that you were with a man?"

"He's a friend, papa," she replied. Defending Erik was harder than she thought.

"A man cannot be just a friend to a woman who isn't married, dear Cossette."

"He--"

"I saw you with him," he interrupted. Sudden anger blazed in the Comte's once beautiful blue eyes.

Cossette looked away.

"I saw you in his arms."

Tears began to fall down her cheeks.

"I saw the way you looked at him," he continued. "The way you looked upon him--"

"Stop!" she yelled and stood up. "Stop it!"

Raoul stared at her in disbelief.

"Do not speak on things you don't know," she barked at him. She went to walk away, but Raoul's grubby hand caught her arm. She turned and glared at him. He stood and his grip tightened on her arm.

"You love him," he accused.

Cossette glared at her father and tried to pull from his grasp, but could not. "Let go of me," she threatened through her teeth.

"Oh, I will, Cossette, but first you will tell me where you were and who the bloody hell you were with." A sick smile creased the Comte's lips.

"The hell I will," she retorted. She fell to the floor with a shrill cry after Raoul struck her. She stared up at him in disbelief as tears brewed in her eyes. She laid a hand on the side of her face where a bruise was forming.

He stood over her rubbing the back of his hand. "Do not use vulgarity in my presence." She watched him as he sat back down. "Let's start with where you were…now, come and sit here."

Cossette did as she was told, that old fear of her father resurfaced. She rubbed her cheek and watched her father as he toyed with a button on the cuff of his jacket.

"Now, where have you been?" he asked.

"Not far," she answered quietly.

"No, no, dear. Where have you been?" His eyes flashed warning.

"Just outside of Paris."

"Ahhh…" He paused and rubbed his chin. "Now…the difficult part; who was so kind as to give you house?"

She was hesitant to answer. She did not want to betray Erik, but she feared her father. Either way she did not have much of a choice. "His name is Erik," she said weakly.

"Erik…hmmm…and what is Monsieur Erik's surname?"

Cossette paused. How could she not know Erik's surname? She had spent so much time with him and yet she did not know his full name! "I do not know…"

"Really? You weren't a whore now were you?" The cruelty in the voice of the once former innocent and caring Vicomte both offended and frightened her.

"I'm sorry, papa. I just don't know." She buried her face in her hands.

"Tell me about Monsieur Erik."

"There isn't much to tell," she replied. She kept her face hidden.

"Evidently, there is more than you wish to tell. I saw the manner he held you in his arms. Now, I suggest you tell me. I _will _find out either way," he said venomously.

"There was a bad storm and I--"

"Yes," he stroked his chin, "I do recall that storm the night you ran off."

She looked at him and wondered where the man of her childhood had gone. "Papa, what has happened to you?"

"Nothing that concerns you," he hissed. "No tell me about Monsieur."

"Papa, please. He's just a kind stranger who took me in," she pleaded. She absently fidgeted with the ring in her hands as she stared at her father.

He scoffed. "Lying will not suffice."

"I'm not--"

"What is that?" he interrupted. He leaned forward, but Cossette closed her hand and clutched it against her bosom. "Cossette, show papa what you have there."

She shook her head. "It's nothing, papa"

"If it's nothing show me."

She looked at him helplessly and reluctantly revealed the ring to him.

A inhuman groan escaped Raoul's lips as he nearly fainted. He rubbed his eyes and looked from the ring to Cossette and stared incredulously. He recognized the ring his daughter was holding as the engagement ring he had given Christine those many years ago.

"Have you no idea of what you've done?" he bellowed. He stood and paced to the other side of the room.

"Papa?" she questioned.

"It can't be. No, no, no…Not him." Raoul turned and looked back at his daughter. "Why must he continue to torture me?"

"Papa, this isn't what you think."

"Oh, it isn't?" He turned from her again and covered his eyes. "He couldn't stop with Christine. No, he had to take you away, too."

"Papa?"

"He drove her to her death, you know," he spat. "He killed--murdered her."

Cossette jumped up and came within inches of her father's face. Hot tears burned down her cheeks. "Don't speak of him that way. He didn't kill her," she shrieked. "You did."

* * *

Thanks for reading and stuff. I'm really sorry, everyone!

Happy Day,

EOL

* * *


	26. Sabotage

* * *

I'm back in bidness. Teehee. I'm just glad to be writing again! Yay! Oh, and I'm almost to 200 reviews! Thanks all you wonderful guys and gals!

This one be short, my apologies.

* * *

Chapter 26

Sabotage

It was time. It had been three days and it was time. Time for her to return to him or perish forever. Either it is the sweet beginning of a new life or the merciless end to the torture and pain. No matter which way it went, he would suffer no longer.

***

Darkness fell onto Paris as Cicero trotted over the hill before coming to halt only a small ways away from the de Chagny residence. Wind whipped at Erik face; throwing his mask askew. He readjusted it and pulled his hood up so it shadowed his features, even in the dark of night.

The coldness of the nighttime air did not phase Erik. No, he had more important matters on his mind. It had come time after these three long days that seemed like an eternity, but now it was over and the time had come…

Even though Erik told Cossette that he would be back in three days time for her answer, he had not been able to keep himself completely away. He had risked riding by the de Chagny Estate in broad daylight at least…four times. He was a man who had went around the brim of madness without his dear Cossette.

After studying the large mansion for a long minute, Erik dismounted Cicero and secured him to a nearby tree before stalking off toward the Estate in the cover of night. He came within ten feet of the grand entrance. The large wooden doors stood staring at him, enticing him in, but Erik was no fool. He would not make his presence obvious. After all, he was the Opera Ghost and some things just never change.

The moon provided just enough light to make Erik's task easier, in a sense. He moved in the shadows and came to the rear of the mansion. He glanced around in the dark for some sort of footing that would allow him to climb up to a balcony. There was no need to locate Cossette's quarters (he had done that earlier on one of his passing's of the house). Old habits die hard.

After searching in the dark for a good few minutes, Erik found a lower pillar that could act as a ladder. It was not quite too smooth, which allowed him grip onto it. Despite Erik's age, he was still as agile as he was all those many years ago. He silently and swiftly scaled the house until he was crouching on the first roof underneath the balcony that lead to Cossette's room.

He stayed still for several minutes, listening. The cool breeze of the night whistled through the naked trees and the soft "coo" of a night bird teased his ears. Staying still for what he thought long enough, Erik reached up and pulled himself up by the railing of the balcony with the skills he had acquired from sneaking about in the raters of _L'Opera de Populairé_. He hopped over the rail easily and halted by the doorway.

Suddenly, Erik's mind went blank and he hesitated and even thought of fleeing, but there was no turning back now. This would be what sealed his fate. His whole existence had come down to this moment. His whole life depended on and was in the hands of a young woman. She decided if her were to die or live…

The time had come and Erik was not going back. He would not sit in the shadows any longer and watch life go on around him. No, this was it.

He eased toward the archway, silently and slowly. He quickly entered the large bedchamber and hid in the shadow of a large corner next to a wardrobe of sorts. He strained his eyes as he scanned the room in the dark. There were two large windows on one side that let in minimal moonlight, a small vanity in the opposite corner, a bedside table…

Erik's eyes stopped on the form that was sprawled out on the bed. Sudden dread grasped Erik. Perhaps this was a mistake after all? He shook his head to clear away such thoughts. He could not see his beloved's face for it was facing away from him and she was wrapped in the many sheets.

He approached his sleeping Cossette silently. He stood looming over for a moment. He reached out hesitantly with one gloved hand and went to gently pull back the sheet that covered her face and to his horror it was not Cossette…for this being had lengthy blond hair and was not even a woman at all…

It was Raoul.

***

"Why is she here, mother?"

"It is for the best, my dear. _He_ said to keep her here."

"Is it really true? About…_him_?"

"I'm afraid so. I would never imagine that this would happen. It is all too horrible."

"I don't understand, mother. Why would he go after her?"

"I don't know. He was the same way with her mother…"

Cossette slowly opened her eyes to darkness and voices. She immediately panicked for she knew not where she was nor did she recognize the voices. She was lying down and that is all she knew.

"Are you alright, dear?" the concerned voice of an older women asked from the other side of the room.

Cossette turned her head toward the voice and winced at the pain in her neck. She squinted her eyes and through the darkness of the room she could make out two silhouettes.

"Is she alright, mother?" the other silhouette asked.

"We shall soon see." The older women's voice moved closer and Cossette felt a warm hand lay against her forehead. She jerked away from it, but again winced at the pain in her neck.

There was a small chuckle. "I would not do that if I were you, dearie. You made quite a fuss and took a nasty fall…"

Cossette blinked, but the faces of the two women were still hidden in the dark. "What happened? Where am I?"

"You fell."

"What do you mean?"

"You simply fell, my dear."

"But--"

"Shush yourself."

"But--I cannot be here. I must go," Cossette pleaded. She tried to sit up, but a two hands pushed her back down.

"Ah-ah. You mustn't be leaving, dearie."

Cossette struggled to no avail. "You must let me go. I can't be here," she begged.

"You father told us to help you. Now be a good girl and this will all be over soon," the older women replied.

To Cossette's horror the younger of the two approached her with something that glinted in the dark. She felt something prick her skin. She cried out and became instantly lost in a bizarre world of dark and color and then everything went black.

* * *

I'm sorry about the length of the chapter, my dears. I just had to stop. I'm not too sure what's going on with Erik right now, but I bet he's pretty pissed. I know I would be. Damnable fop! As for Cossette...hhhhmmm...We'll just have to find out next time.

Cheers,

EOL =)

* * *


	27. Reprisal

* * *

It's time for some Raoul bashing! My treat. Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter 27

Reprisal

Raoul sprang up on the surprised and dumbstruck Erik. Erik's back hit the wall and Raoul ran back to the safety of the other side of the room with the bed, a table, and chair as his defense.

Dazed, Erik stood and scrambled to the nearest dark corner and became invisible in the shadows of the room. He willed himself not to hurl himself at the insolate fop. No, he must not do anything that might risk either injury to himself or losing Cossette. He remained still.

"Where are you, _phantom_?" Erik watched as Raoul glanced around the room. He mused silently as Raoul picked up a candlestick, to use a weapon, perchance? "Still hiding in the dark I see. Afraid to see what's in the light? It burns does it not?"

From the shelter of the shadows, Erik watched Raoul's uneasy posture as he continued to glance about and grip the candle holder. It was taking him everything not to answer and refrain from killing the fool. He clenched his fists so hard he could feel his nails penetrating the black leather of his gloves.

Raoul stepped back against the opposite wall. "She loved you, you know," Raoul started. "She spoke of you all times. She asked of you…and for you. She went all loony thinking about you. You were all she thought about. Even when she was upon her death bed she asked for you…" Spite and utter hate filled his voice. "She asked for her _Ange de Musique_--"

Erik lurched out of the shadow and vaulted himself at Raoul. The leather of Erik's gloves met the fat skin of Raoul's neck and forced him against the wall. "Lies! You speak of lies," Erik hissed in Raoul's face. _How dare he speak of her?! _Erik became immediately enraged.

"Why would I lie? I have nothing to gain from it, good ghost." The spite and sarcasm of the Vicomte's voice agitated Erik. His grip on the fop's throat tightened and Erik brought his face so close to the Fabio's that it looked as though he would kiss him.

Erik's tone was quiet and threatening. "Watch your tongue, you great booby! You know not what you speak nor what you provoke." Raoul whimpered as Erik tightened his grip on his neck, again. He drew his lips back from his teeth in an unconsciously feral gesture.

Raoul tried to shift under Erik's weight, but he was still much weaker than his adversary. "Kill me," the Vicomte groaned.

There was no warning, but a sickening crack of the Vicomte's skull against the plaster wall and then a thud as he fell at Erik's feet. He stepped back and watched as the Vicomte tried to rise, which Erik cured with a swift kick to the ribs and down he fell again.

Erik felt his face grow hot with fury and he refrained from finishing his task that he had wanted to carry out since he had come upon the fop. Revenge was at his fingertips and it's sweet victory was calling to him, but his greater self-control took over and Cossette lingered in his mind.

"Where is she?" he demanded.

Raoul pushed himself up on his hands and knees and stared up at his nemesis with all of the hate he could muster. Pain streaked across his face. "You're not to worry," he moaned in agony.

Erik stepped forward and grabbed a handful of the fop's golden locks and brought his face within inches of his once more. "Tell me where she is or--"

"You'll what? Kill me?"

Erik's frustration grew as he hurled the fop into another wall where he fell. He pulled him up again and through him into the vanity and then cleaned the floor with the fop, whose screams and cries of protest and pain echoed throughout the estate. "I'll do much worse than kill you, Vicomte," Erik growled as threw Raoul across the room where he landed against a mirror and it shattered.

The tinkling of the glass fragments sounded as Erik stood shaking from rage and adrenaline. His blood pulsed in his ears and red clouded his vision. He glared at Raoul's motionless form sprawled on the hard floor. Erik's breath came in harsh waves. He was reduced to his knees as he felt them buckle.

Putting out his hands to catch his fall, Erik felt an all too familiar pressure in his chest threaten to take its deadly course. He allowed himself to fall over on his side. He tried desperately to control his breathing and heart rate, but the effort was most difficult with the unconscious Vicomte lying on the other side of the room.

The dull pain faded away to an ache in his chest, but he remained still. He could not rise, nor could he breath. His strength had left him vulnerable on the floor of Cossette's chambers in the gloom with his nemesis.

***

"Are you alright?"

Cossette opened her eyes and was met with a familiar face only a few from her own which caused her to flinch back. "M-Meg?" she questioned surprised despite her drowsiness. The drug had wore off.

"You're safe, Cossette. He won't hurt you here," the blonde said as she sat back in the chair next to the bed where Cossette lay.

Cossette took a moment to gather her thoughts. She remembered odd voices and being injected with some sort of sedative? She closed her eyes and Erik flashed before her eyes. _Erik! Mon dieu! _She sat up and tried to get up, but Meg grabbed her wrist. "Let go of me."

"I can't after what mother told me," she replied and let go of Cossette's wrist.

Cossette sat up and stared at Meg. "What exactly did she tell you? And why am I here? What did you do to me last night? Or better yet; where am I?" she demanded.

Meg sat back and folded her hands in her lap. "She said that you were in danger because of…well…_him_."

"Papa," she mumbled under her breath.

Meg nodded. "He said that _he_ was after you and you were at a great risk of harm and that's why mother and I are watching you…here…"

"Where is _here?_" Cossette ignored the part about Erik for now. She had to figure out how to get away or at least where she was.

"Mother gave you a drug to make you sleep."

"I asked you a question, Meg." Cossette was growing irritated with Meg's negligence to answer her.

"I can't. I must go," Meg hurriedly rose and exited closing a door behind her.

Cossette rose swiftly and tried to follow, but heard the click of the lock and she banged her fists against the hard wood of the door only to grimace at the sting and fall to the floor in sobs. "Erik, I'm sorry…"

***

"Now let's try again. Choose your words wisely, my dear Vicomte. The least you could do is respond intelligently," Erik mocked as he paced back and forth in front of the sorry and most pathetic sight of the Vicomte bound to a chair with his head lulled forward. His long blonde hair concealed his face. Blood was matted in his hair and on his suit. "Where is Cossette?"

Erik waited for what he thought was long enough before crossing over to Raoul and lifting his head up by his hair. "I dare you to lie to me," his voice was calm, but threatening. He got a groan in response as the fop closed his eyes. "You try my patience." Erik dropped his head forward and paced back to the other side of the room. His eyes searched wildly and stopped on fire poker in front of a minimal hearth. Erik's eyes glinted at the thought and he set to work starting a fire as the fop watched in horror as the flames grew.

Erik then found it amusing to pace back and forth, in front of Raoul, with the new torture instrument. He stopped occasionally in front of Raoul and merely shook his head. "Now, tell me where she is or else be burned by the devil's spawn." Raoul stared blankly at Erik with contempt. "Make your choice."

"Now, listen you pompous fool, I will not--"

"Very well," Erik interrupted. He placed the poker in the hot coals of the hearth. The flames danced off his mask and made him appear as a demon from Hell, as far as Raoul could see.

"I will not let you near her," Raoul declared defiantly.

Erik hummed to himself as he waited for the poker to heat. He glanced back over his shoulder at Raoul. His victim had begun to squirm, but to no avail. The former O.G. was a master at tying rope. He was not going anywhere.

"I shall give you one last chance," Erik said as he pulled the poker out of the flames. The end glowed orange and yellow. He walked toward Raoul with it. Raoul struggled even more and groaned. "You will return her to me."

"Never."

"Be my guest," Erik hissed as he paused and stood in front of Raoul with the poker in hand. Raoul whimpered as the poker neared his exposed flesh at his neckline. He closed his eyes, but the pain did not come. Erik halted and moved the poker so it was just in front of his breast pocket. "You hath never shown me mercy, but I will ask one last time. Where is she?" he growled.

"I would not tell you over my dead carcass," Raoul spat.

You could see all the lights of Hell burning in his eyes, but he was grinning. "That can be arranged." With that Erik pushed the hot poker against Raoul's breast. A horrid inhuman cry escaped Raoul as the sizzling of skin and cloth filled the air. Burned flesh stunk and Raoul cried and beg for the searing pain to cease and Erik obliged.

"Now let us try this once more, ignorant Vicomte," Erik mocked as the maddening grin on his face grew. "Where is she?"

"I will not--" Erik thrust the poker forward again. "Alright!" Raoul shrieked. "Alright, I'll tell you, but leave me be." Erik halted his movement and stared intently at Raoul.

"Go on, then."

"She's with Jules."

"Giry?" Erik asked incredulously.

Raoul nodded solemnly.

"Where?" Erik asked threatening Raoul with the poker again.

"Outskirts of Paris…small shack on the eastern side…used as a safe house," Raoul groaned. His head slumped forward again.

Erik smirked in triumph. "_Merci beaucoup, Monsieur de Chagny,_" Erik mocked as he pulled his hood up and turned to go. As he reached the door he turned back around and could not help the tempting urge…for old habits die hard. He picked up the poker once more and pressed it to Raoul's chest, which gave him a cry to his satisfaction.

***

It was nearing the afternoon as Cicero came upon the Giry house; secluded and partially hidden by the nearby wood. It was a small shack that looked as though it would fall over at the next gust of wind. Erik sighed in disgust that Cossette would be confined to such a place.

After securing Cicero nearby, he waltzed right up to the front door. He came for Cossette and he wanted her now. Enough games and distractions. She owed him an answer to his proposal and it would be stalled no longer.

Erik took a moment to compose himself. He readjusted his mask and pulled his hood up. He smoothed his cape and suit the best he could. It held traces of Raoul's blood, he mused. He raised his hand to the door and knocked thrice and waited.

The door opened a crack and he was met with a very startled looking Meg Giry. "The Phantom of the Opera lives!"

* * *

Thanks for stating the obvious, Meg. And Raoul got his shit handed to him, no? I believe that he got off easy considering how pissed Erik was. Lucky fop... Stupid Giry's gotta get dragged into it. Ugh. Don'tcha think Raoul was a bit shallow playing the whole Christine card? Holey ever lovin' cow! Well, I be off now to kill some zombies. C'mon! Somebody's gotta do it. =P Thanks for reading and reviewing everyone! I love you guys and gals!

Cheers and Bestest Wishes,

EOL =)

p.s. I can't wait 'til Erik and Cossette are back together. Teehee.

* * *


	28. Chasing Cossette

* * *

It sure has been a while and this is quite short.

* * *

Chapter 28

Chasing Cossette

"The Phantom of the Opera lives!" Meg looked as though she would faint.

"Yes, it is I," Erik growled growing impatient. _He's here; the phantom of the opera! _The all too familiar phrase teased his mind. "Where is she?"

"I knew you did not die in the tragic fire, ghost. I knew you lived!" Meg's eyes sparkled.

"Indeed_._" Erik shifted his weight impatiently while doing his best to control his temper, but who in Hell really cared? He did not. "Give Cossette to me," he commanded.

Meg stared at him dumbly. "I cannot, Monsieur Opera Ghost," she said timidly.

Erik glared at her and she flinched. "Then I shall take her." With that said, Erik pushed passed Meg. He all but sprinted to the back of the shack. "Cossette?" he called. "Cossette?" His eyes searched wildly.

"Monsieur, you will not find her," came the voice of Meg. Erik ignored her and continued his search. He searched the two bedrooms, the closets, and even the cellar.

No Cossette to be found.

"Monsieur Phantom, I beg of you to stop this madness!"

Erik turned and glared at her. "Is it madness?"

"I am sorry, Phantom, but you will not find her here." The girl's constant fidgeting of her dress annoyed him greatly.

"Where _is_ she?" he bellowed.

"I cannot say…" Meg stared at him in fright.

"You cannot say or you will not say?" he demanded.

"I cannot. I do not know." The woman looked as though she would sob.

"You must!" he exclaimed incredulously.

She shook her head.

"I ask--no I beg…" He walked toward her. "Let me find her."

"Mother said--"

"To Hell with Jules! To Hell with the damned Vicomte," he bellowed. "To Hell with you!"

"Monsieur--" she shrank back into the kitchen.

"I have played fair," he growled. "I want a answer. Now, where is Cossette de Chagny?"

"I do not know! I swear it!" The women was reduced to tears. He felt immediately enraged.

"I do not care what you do or do not know, either way you will assist me in finding her." He closed the short distance between them. He loomed over her giving himself the sense of power. "Who took her?"

"Mother," Meg sniffled.

"Very good," he hissed. "When?"

"I do not know. It was sometime in the morning."

"A time would be more appropriate." His eyes narrowed.

"Eight? Maybe Nine," she squeaked.

"Where?"

"Monsieur, I really do not--"

"Where?" he repeated.

"I do not know. Please, Monsieur, do not ask this of me," she cried. "I am sorry. Really, I am. I wish to help, but alas, I cannot."

"Oh, Hell," Erik growled as he turned on his heel and headed for the door. He knew it obvious that Meg was ignorant to the whereabouts of Cossette.

***

"Let go of me!"

"Oh, do hush girl," the quiet voice of Mme. Giry scolded. "_We_ do this for your own good."

"Help!" Cossette screamed as Jules dragged her down a dark hallway.

"No one will hear you, you know," Jules said. "Quiet."

"Let me go," Cossette begged. "Please, let me go!" She struggled against the older women to no avail.

"Stop making such a fuss."

"Let me--" Cossette was silenced as she was pushed into a dark room. Again, she heard the door lock. She was alone…again. She did not even bother yelling or protesting. She stalked over to the corner furthest from the door. She threw herself down on the cold wood floor. She pulled her knees to her chest and began to sob.

"Erik…Oh, Erik…Where are you?"

***

Morning was approaching. The sun was just breaking the horizon. Life was still scarce. Nothing moved nor could be heard with the exception of the beating hooves of Cicero as Erik urged him onward. He had reached his frustration's end. Rage consumed his person and clouded his mind. He had to find Cossette or he would surely go mad. Erik pulled his hood up as the light threatened to touch his face. Cicero sped on.

He would find her…he must. The least likely place in plane view…he would whisk her away from her father and the world…he would take her in his arms and she would remain there forever. She would marry him and all would be as it should be. But where was she?

Then it hit him. He was certain she was _there_. How could he be so blind? It was so perfect and yet, unexpected!

She had to be _there_.

She would--will be _there_.

Waiting.

For him.

Where it all began.

* * *

Where, oh, where has our little Cossette gone? Oh, where, oh where can she be? Hmmm...Let's think, shall we? Where did it all begin? Hhhhmmm...

~EOL

My apologizes for shortness of this here chappy.

* * *


	29. Where It All Began

* * *

Hello, my lovelies! I want to apologize to all of you for my sudden change...well, there is a bit of a twist that some of you may not like. Do enjoy. And yes, I decided that we must return to the opera house to revisit _our_ demons. (My apologizes to aloserinthebackofthemathclass). Teehee...Oh, happy Day!

* * *

Chapter 29

Where It All Began

Everyone knew of the horrid incident that occurred at the _Opera Populairé _those many, many years ago. The catastrophe that occurred on the premiere night of the newly composed _Don Juan Triumphant _had left a mark on the people of Paris. How could one forget such a horrid event?

There was a full house for the debut of the new opera; all those who were regarded high in Paris were there--as well as opera lovers, nobles, _famille_ of the cast, and still others more. And lest us not forget the retched guardarm who was positioned upon the balcony, backstage, and at about every window awaiting the signal from the Vicomte de Chagny to silence the so-called opera ghost.

The opera, itself, had a high lust filled plot that matched the dancers moving intimately with their partners upon the stage. The music was sinister and carnal compared what the Frenchmen had ever witnessed before. The atmosphere set the mood…of well, _Don Juan Triumphant_! You must no the literal translation of _Don Juan Triumphant , yes? _Don Juan was a seducer and he was indeed triumphant…

Not all of the audience had caught on at first, but it was quit obvious that the Don Juan of the earlier acts had been replaced (the actor who held Don Juan's role was a large Italian man named Piangi) by a tall mysterious man with a tenor voice any man would envy.

The way the mysterious man and Mme. Daae had performed together shocked all who witnessed their soon to be last song. No one could have been more passionate nor become one with another than that of the two. _The Point of No Return_ was an lust driven and passionate song for two lovers. All who watched knew that Mme. Daae and her mysterious other must have been romantically involved in which the way they sang, moved, and came together in intensity.

The poor Vicomte, Raoul de Chagny, was seated in the claimed opera ghost's seat known as box five. As he watched the performance below, the poor lad was said to have been crying in jealousy and anger as his fiancé was _fondled_ by the one he knew as the phantom. He leaned over the balcony and watched the scene play out and did everything to refrain from sending down the guardarm to kill his rival.

The opera would soon be reaching its end and it would be time to take away the phantom…and so it continued….the final score…

"_When will the flames at last CONSUME us?" _

Christine had met her Don Juan on the top platform. Don Juan had gracefully discarded his cape and walked toward his soon to be triumph. The Phantom pulled Christine to him as their song of passion came to an end… Both, Don Juan and Christine, sang the last chorus together.

"_Past the point of no return,__The final threshold  
The bridge is crossed  
So stand and watch it burn  
We've passed the point of no return."_

_His _opera had ended, but he had not. Don Juan continued to sing, soft and sort of saddened.

"_Say you'll share with me,  
One love, one lifetime ,  
Lead me, save me from my solitude.  
Say you want me,  
With you here,  
Beside you.  
Anywhere you go  
Let me go, too.  
Christine, that's all I ask of_ --"

At that moment Christine choose to tear his mask away; showing his face to the audience. Shrieks and screams rang throughout the opera house. Gasps and cries of disgust echoed in the auditorium.

The phantom had looked at her sadly, then cut a rope that caused the great crystal chandelier to fall and an other lever with his foot, and they fell through a trap door; disappearing from the audience's view.

Fire had engulfed the _Opera Populairé_. It bellowed out of the windows as Frenchmen ran; trying to escape the blaze. Utter panic and tragedy had befallen upon the opera. 'Twas the end…but the mystery of the phantom had gone unsolved…the mysterious O.G. had disappeared like--well…like a bloody ghost!

***

The latter events of his last day at the opera house played through the former opera ghost's mind as he rode through the deserted city streets of Paris. The currently brewing storm warded of any travelers of today as well as the usual Frenchmen crowding about the streets. The sky was dark with storm clouds. A large crack of thunder frightened Cicero, which caused the tame beast to rear up almost losing Erik in the process.

Cursing as Cicero continued, Erik dreaded his return. What demons would he waken within the walls of the ruined _Opera Populairé_? A sudden gust of wind exposed Erik's masked face, which he corrected out of habit and his face was shrouded in shadow once more. He continued to ride through the street and alleyway as thunder continued to sound, but no rain dare fall…yet.

Rounding the last corner, the once great opera house was brought into view. The eroded and ruined building stood in it's skeletal frame. Memories flooded back to Erik. Bitter sweet memories of Christine, his music, of love he never had but had desired so…

_Track down this murderer! He must be found_! The cry of the mob echoed in his head. _Murderer…murderer! _He closed his eyes unable to face the past…

***

After dismounting Cicero, Erik readjusted his mask and stalked to the entrance of the opera house. He had become soaked by the heavy down pour, but that was the least of his concern. He stared up at the great doors scorched by the fire…caused by _his _hand…he had destroyed _his_ opera house…his castle, his home.

Sadness overcame him as he entered the once grand foyer. He looked back over his shoulder to see a completely black sky. His cloak heavy with water he stepped further into the foyer.

The staircase still held its elegance in a eerie way as did the broken statues, which seemed to be watching him with sad faces. He became overwhelmed by emotion upon his return. Never had he ever thought he would set foot in here again. A loud crack of thunder shook him back to reality.

Erik found himself practically running down a long corridor; toward the _prima donna _dressing room. Yes, he remembered the entrance. How could he forget? He burst through the door and hastily stepped through the passage (where he had first exposed himself to Christine) that would take him to his lair deep down below.

It was not necessary that he walk cautiously. No, for he remembered the passages as if he were stalking them only yesterday. He ran through the dark. Down the stairs, through countless tunnels and around bend after bend. He had to stop twice to catch his breath, that came with age.

_Track down this murderer he must be found! _Erik turned and looked behind himself missing a step, but caught himself on the wall. No one was there. He continued._ Hunt out this animal, who runs to ground! _He ran faster to escape the voices of long ago. _Too long he's preyed on us, but now we know, the phantom of the opera lives down below!_

Erik halted as he reached the edge of the vast glassy lake. It was dark water, just as he remembered. And the mist…_I remember there was mist…swirling mist… Her_ words flooded his mind as he peered through the mist and upon the other side was the shore, his former lair and domain. His heart ached as he recalled his farewell to his student, his love, and his _ange de musique_.

He shook his head to clear away such thoughts--no, demons of the past. He strained his eyes once more and could make out a luminous light in the distance. A torch? Someone had invaded _his_ domain. He crouched down and ran his gloved hand across the surface of the water. The shimmering reflection of his white mask stared back at him.

He cursed himself for not thinking his choice of passage through. He had forgotten that his gondola no longer was waiting for him to oar it across the lake. He sighed and paced for a moment. He dare not go back through the maze and try another entrance. It would take too long and he had not the energy to do so.

Sighing, he stopped and stood at the edge of the lake. He was already soaked from the rain of outside…He jumped in with a most ungraceful splash. His body was shocked by the coolness of the water. Just as he had remembered…He swam in large smooth strokes.

He pulled himself onto the shore of the grotto. He stayed still a moment before rising. He glanced about his lair. It was in disarray and destroyed beyond compare. The mob had done its worst. He paced over to his ruined organ and caressed the once white keys. He then tore his hand away as if it were burned. _Cossette! _He cursed himself for becoming distracted.

Suddenly, he heard voices and footsteps approaching. He ducked into the nearest corner just as two figures came into view. One was a tall young man with dark hair and eyes with a face as pale as bone in dark dress. The other he recognized immediately was an aged and graying Madame Giry. The walked down to where his worn desk.

"I do not understand," Madame Giry continued as she motioned for the young man to take a seat opposite of her. "I had known _he _was alive, but I did not know he was here--in Paris until M. de Chagny enlightened me."

The dark-haired young man nodded and folded his arms. "Do not feed me false claims," the young man grunted. "You knew as well as I do that _he_ is here." Who are you, Erik thought to himself, and how in Hell do you know me?

"I am sorry, Monsieur." Madame Giry paused. "You know then, I assume--"

"Tell me where _she _is," he interrupted. "I came all this way and I wish to see her."

"Very well, but I caution you; she is not in a good state of mind." Madame Giry winced as she rose from her seat. Erik studied the young man, but he remained still.

Madame Giry returned a moment later with Cossette walking slowly behind her. Erik almost sprinted to her, but remained where he was. He wanted to know more about this young man that had come a long way to see _his_ Cossette.

Mme Giry placed a gentle hand on Cossette's shoulder as to guide, but Cossette shrugged it off and threw herself down opposite of the young man. "I shall leave you children," Mme Giry said.

"Merci, Madame," The young man said. She departed leaving Cossette sitting with this unknown being. Erik watched as the young man stared at Cossette while her attention seemed to be on her lap. _Who are you? What do you want?_

"You cannot say you have forgotten me," the young man said rather casually.

"I cannot say I remember either," Cossette mumbled.

"I am sorry about all of this." He rested his hands on the table and stared at her intently. "I did not plan on meeting you this way."

"You are sorry?" She glanced up at him with eyes red from crying and dark circles that made her seem much older. "I am sorry I am here, _aussi_."

"Indeed," he sighed. "You cannot tell me that you do not remember me at all? Do think." There was a long silence and realization struck Cossette's face and the shadow was gone.

"No!" she exclaimed. She clasped her hands to her mouth.

"_Oui_," he confirmed. A smile spread across his pale face (it made Erik sick and he felt a immediate jealously toward the young man who knew his Cossette). "I knew you must remember." He rose from his chair and pulled Cossette to her feet. "Coss--"

"Oh! How I missed you," Cossette squealed. She hugged the young man and he wrapped his arms around her. Erik had closed his eyes to escape the scene in front of him. Rage was pumping within his veins. _How dare he touch her so intimately!_

"I missed you, too," Erik heard _him_ whisper. Cossette stepped back and stared up at the man.

"I thought I would never see you again." Cossette reached out and held onto his hand, which caused Erik's blood to boil.

"I know, Cossette and again I must apologize for leaving you," the young man replied. He brought her hand to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss to her knuckles. Erik was red with envy and utter hate. "Tell me you do remember how we use to walk through the gardens…Oh, you must remember strolling about the streets of Paris in the rain! And how we use to school together! Oh, Cossette, I have missed you so!"

"I would never forget such happy times," Cossette said. She smiled at him. Erik hated the man for his past with Cossette that Erik could only guess. He loathed him for getting a reaction from his Cossette. He hated him for kissing her, for touching her, and for even speaking to her, but he was enraged most of all how Cossette seemed to find pleasure in it all. "I could never."  
"This I know," the man replied. "I should never left you. Can you find it in your heart to forgive a man who makes mistakes? He will now make them right, if you give him a chance…" The man looked down. Erik cursed the man silently as he watched from the shadowed crevice.

"I have already forgiven you," Cossette said. He looked up.

"I cannot thank you enough!" He pulled her into an embrace and kissed her lightly on the cheek and that is when Erik snapped. The two turned to see a blur of black lunge from the shadows.

"Erik! No!" Cossette shrieked in horror.

Erik had the young man pressed to the cold wall. His hand were at the man's throat and his face only inches away. "You do not touch her," Erik growled like a madman. "You do not do that."

"Erik, stop this!" He turned to look at her.

"To Hell I will! What is he? One of your lovers?" Erik accused. He turned back to the dark haired, pale faced young man in his grasp.

"No--"

"You--You are her lover! I shall not be made a fool of," Erik spat in the man's face. "Answer me." Erik shook him.

"You do not…understand," the man managed.

"I understand well, sir. You are her lover and you wish to take her from me!" The visible veins in Erik's face bulged. Again, the lights of Hell were in his eyes. "I shall kill you."

"No, Erik! Don't!"

"I will not lose her…no not again," Erik spoke like a madman. "You will not take her from me." He shook as he tightened his grip around the young man's neck.

"No…you do…" The young man coughed as Erik continued to apply pressure. Thus, blocking the man's windpipe.

"To Hell with you," Erik hissed. He shook and a sick grin creased his face as the young man's began to purple. Horror and pleas flashed in his victim's eyes.

"Erik! No! You'll kill him!" Cossette ran up behind Erik and grabbed onto his arm and tried to pull him away. "Stop!" Her pleas were ignored.

The young man held onto Erik's death hands and tried to pull them away. He mumbled something incomprehensible to Erik's ears. "You die tonight and I live for another day. Do not worry about your dear Cossette, I shall take care of her," Erik breathed.

"F-fa--"

"I shall deal with you later, Cossette," Erik growled. He applied even more pressure to the man's throat.

"Erik, stop! You'll kill him!"

"That is the idea, love."

"You must stop now, Erik. I beg you, please!" Tears streaked down her face. Erik turned his head to face her.

"You are next," he said gravely. She laid her hand on his arm.

"He is not my lover, Erik," she said.

"Then explain to me--"

"He is your--"

"Son," the young man rasped.

* * *

Do not eat me! *cowers in corner* I decided to tie in some ideas from other sequel writers. This one comes from the one written by Frederick Forsyth; "The Phantom of Manhattan", which is the result of Andrew Lloyd Webber and him speaking of a possible part II. I thought it a fun twist. I know, I am an evil authoress and yes, this story is very screwed up. You got a problem with it? Review it then dammit! I want to hear all of your rants and complaints! My sincerest apologizes for my errors; this was rushed.

Cheerio Mates,

EOL

p.s. Teehee...I love being unfathomly evil. ^_^

* * *


	30. Father Erik

* * *

Isn't this a nice little family reunion?

* * *

Chapter 29

Father Erik

One could almost taste the tenseness in the air. Erik stood holding the young man that claimed to be his son by the throat, pinned against the wall of his former lair. Cossette pulled on Erik's soaked cape in an attempt to assist her brother. "Erik--" she started.

Erik stared incredulously at the man gasping for breath at his hands. _My son?! What have I done? _Unconscious tears burned down Erik's visible face. Rage turned to realization and he immediately dropped the man from his gloved hands. He pulled free from Cossette's grasp and ran to the safety of the shadows. He heard Cossette calling after him, but he continued.

Sprinting threw a dark tunnel, Erik faltered stride and met the hardness of the cobble ground. His mask was sent flying in some unknown direction. He quickly searched for it in the dank darkness on hand and knee. The coolness of the cellars froze Erik's wet body to the bone. He found his mask and replaced it.

"My son…" he mumbled to himself as he sat down leaning against the wall with his drenched cape draped around his body. He let his head fall back against the wall as he closed his eyes. "My boy…"

***

_Flashback: Thirteen years after the demise of the Opera Populairé…one of the secret meetings between Erik and Christine, which was indeed their last._

_"Stay with me, Christine." _

_"You know I cannot."_

_"Stay with me. Times have changed. Things are not as they once were."_

_"I cannot, Erik. I love Raoul. I beg you to try and accept it. I will never forget what you have done for me…nor could I even if I so desired. I thank you for everything you have given me. My heart lies elsewhere…and always will. Can you not accept that?"_

_There was a long pause as Erik fought to recover from his grief. He resumed speaking, but there was a tremor in his voice. His once confident posture had faltered. "Indeed, I must accept. 'Tis nothing new. My heart has been broken countless times."_

_"Erik--"_

_"There is more…one more thing. Leave me my boy."_

_"Erik? Your…what? Your boy?"_

_"Yes, Christine. My son, our son, Pierre."_

_She nearly fainted and clasped her hands to her mouth. There was several moments of silence before she removed her hands and spoke quietly. "How do you know?"_

_"Giry."_

_"She did? Why?"_

_"She wanted to share a secret that was eating away at her soul for so many years."_

_"She lied."_

_"No. I know everything, Christine."_

_"Oh, mon dieu! Raoul has done everything for him and has brought him up as his own. Pierre does not know."_

_"Raoul is aware. You know, as do I. Leave me my son."_

_"I cannot, Erik. He is not ready. He is but a boy and not yet ready for this." She paused. "His is young, only twelve." _

_"I have the right to my boy," Erik roared._

_"He still needs me." Tears had begun to fall down her face. "Make me a promise, Erik. I will tell him when he is a man, if you leave us be and he will choose."_

_"But, that is five years…do I have your word, Christine? If I wait…"_

_"You will have your son, if you can win him. It is his choice."_

_"I will wait. All of my life I have been waiting. What is a few more years? I have waited so long for a little taste of happiness…I will wait."_

_"Thank you, Erik. And you will not interfere?"_

_"I will not."_

_"You must promise me you will let us live in peace."_

_"I will."_

_"But you will watch over him?"_

_"Of course, Christine. Closer than you can ever know."_

_End of flashback._

***

That had been the very last time he had spoken to Christine…He had kept his word, he had stayed away and soon gave up on the boy…and eventually forgot. His son had never come to see him, nor tried to make any contact. Erik had distracted himself with his damned bourbon and morphine. He had lost his son long ago. This boy had grown into Raoul's son. Erik's son was lost long ago.

The dampness and wetness of the tunnel had invaded Erik's nostrils and he felt ill. His eyes remained closed as he lingered in the past. He had not moved from where he was, no he could not bring himself to. The tears had long since dried. He had begun to wonder why Cossette had never spoken of him…perhaps she had forgotten as well. That was illogical. She avoided the dangerous past as Erik had done.

Erik rested his masked face against his knees as he tried to contemplate what to do next. He was in no condition to so. He was not in his right mind. Emotions flooded him as did the past harass him. He had found Cossette. He had thought she had a lover, but it turned out to be _his_ forgotten son, which he had almost strangled. How could he face either of them after that?

Tears of anger and grief flooded down Erik's face again. He cried for the deceased Christine, the mother of his child--his son. He cried for the theft of his son by the Vicomte de Chagny. For his forgotten boy, he sobbed. For Cossette…she could never understand…

After wallowing in tears, for what seemed as a long time, Erik composed himself and forced himself to stand. He leaned against the wall. His cold body shuddered from the cold. He would be forced to return to his lair if he wish to escape the coolness. His bones ached as did his mind. Reason was lost as he stumbled back toward his lair. He only hoped Pierre had gone and Cossette was there waiting for him.

***

Erik crept silently back into his lair. He ducked behind a large mirror, which had previously been shattered by his hand. His eyes found two forms seated just near his organ. They still dared linger.

Cossette was seated next to her brother on a small loveseat. She had her face hidden from Erik's view. Her back was to him. The young man was rubbing his neck with a grim expression on his face.

"You are alright?" Cossette leaned forward and inspected her brother's neck. Even Erik could see the visible purpling bruises caused by his gloved hand.

"Fine," Pierre winced as she touched the left side of his neck. He pushed her hands away and leaned back closing his eyes. "I had not expected the meeting of my father to be…"

"He did not know," Cossette said in Erik's defense. She moved closer and leaned on her brothers shoulder. "He would not have killed you."

"Really?" He scoffed. "You were not in his death grip. You did not see the look of utter hate, jealously, and murder burning in those green eyes of his. He very well was going to kill me."

"He is a good man," Cossette mumbled as she moved away from Pierre.

"I would not have guessed!" Pierre almost laughed. "He is a jolly sir indeed." He looked over at Cossette who had started to cry silent tears. His demeanor changed to that of concern. "Did I say something to upset you?"

"Why are you here? Why come now after all of these years?" She looked at her brother awaiting an answer. "Why now?"

"You need me."

"When I needed you most you were not here." She rubbed her eyes. He opened his mouth to protest, but she continued. "You weren't there when papa and mother started fighting. You weren't there when mother began to lose her head nor when father began to drink. You weren't there when she--she.." She began bawling. "She died, and you weren't there. Papa blames me. He says it's my fault that she is dead and that he is a drunkard. I killed her."

Erik watched as tears streaked down Cossette's face and splashed onto her dress. Pierre seemed distant and unsure of what to do. At that very moment, Erik wanted to run out to her scoop her up in his arms and carry her away, but he remained where he was. He needed to know more. What he was hearing pained him greatly, but he had to know what made his son appear after all of these years.

"Papa--he never spoke of you. Ever. He said I had a bad dream and that's all you were. I was little and I wasn't sure whom to believe, but mother told me of you and said you would be back…but I do not understand," she cried. She pulled her knees up to her chest like a child. "You are my brother, are you not?"

Pierre shifted uncomfortably on the couch and crossed his legs as he stared in front of him. "In a sense," he replied gravely. "Your papa, Raoul, raised me as a boy. He was a kind gentle man, but I always felt as though something was missing and one day…I remember…I would soon be turning thirteen and that is when I received a girt from an unknown source."

"It being a birthday present mother let me open it. It was a beautiful little music box carved by hand in the shape of a Persian monkey holding cymbals and decorated with many pretty things. Mother had went in the other room and I wound it up. A tune I never heard sounded and I heard mother scream from the other room. She ran in at pull me away from the music box. She held me to her tightly and kept repeating 'Masquerade…Thirteen years. He knows. He's here!' I hadn't the slightest what she was talking about, but then I learned of her sneaking off to have meetings with a man and your papa found out and was angry with mother. Being the young lad I was, I did not understand."

"Everything after that went sour. Mother and your papa were always in constant quarrel. You remember how I had disappeared after turning thirteen?" She nodded. "Your papa had sent me off to a private school in Nice, which is far south of here. I was never given an explanation, but I went like a good boy. As a result I did well."

"I returned upon graduation at the age of eighteen, just a man. Mother had sent me a letter telling me to met her at Grandfather Daae's grave. I went. When I saw mother she was kneeling in the snow sobbing. She had turned to look at me and as she did she wiped away her tears. She was just as I had remembered from when I was a boy; long curly brown hair tucked back in her cloak, white soft skin, and large brown eyes much like yours. She was still beautiful, even her tears were."

"She had walked toward me and hugged me tightly. I had tried to speak, but she began to sob again so I held her. We stood in the snow like that for several long minutes. When she spoke the was a quiver to her voice. She asked me if I knew how much she loved me and I told her only as she could ever love her son. She wept again, against my shoulder. She then told me that Raoul was not really my father at this point I had pulled from her and turned away like a brat."

"You see, Cossette?" Pierre sighed. He closed his eyes. Erik stood like a statue in his hidden crook with his head bowed. His shoulders heaved silently as he wept.

"What did she tell you?" Cossette had moved closer to her half-brother and stared at him curiously with her tear-stained face.

"She told me that Raoul was not really my papa." Pierre remained emotionless as he spoke. "He has brought you up as his own son and he loves you, but he is not your true father. After she had told me that, I had stormed off through the cemetery, but I had stopped after she had called after me. 'I am sorry my darling,' she had said."

"I allowed her to explain to me that my father was not among us and that he had hidden himself away from the world by a mask, which I did not understand. She then expressed to me that he had wanted to see me as a boy, but she made him promise to stay away until I was a man and not a boy. She asked me if I wanted to see him…I did not want to for I was angry with all that I knew and loved had been a lie. I hated her and I hated Raoul. I fled then."

"And now I have returned." He paused to catch his breath. "We share the same mother, but I was sired by the one who threatens your very safety." He turned to look at Cossette. "I am sorry."

"You are my half-brother?" she questioned weakly as she eyed him.

"Yes, but a brother none the less," he replied.

"Your father is Erik?"

"Erik?" Pierre asked. Confusion creased his face.

"It is his name," she said quietly and wiped away a tear that had fallen down her cheek.

"Erik," Pierre tested the new information again. Erik cringed against the wall as he heard his name on his son's lips. His tears had long since dried, but the grief remained. "Madame Giry, had yet to tell me why you are in danger of him, besides the fact that I must protect you."

"Protect me from what?" Cossette stared at him wide-eyed.

"From the one I call father; the man in the mask who almost killed me," he replied solemnly.

"Oh, Erik," she sighed and turned away from her brother. "He is misunderstood."

"Elaborate," Pierre commanded. He stood and began to pace back and forth in front of the sofa where Cossette sat. "Why would Madame Giry bother hunting me down and send me a letter saying that I must return to Paris for my little sister's life is in grave danger after all of these years?"

"I do not know," Cossette lied.

"You must, considering how he--Erik spoke to you," he retorted. He left her no room to defend herself. "He accused me of being _your_ lover and he said he would not lose you! Now what could he possibly mean by that, dear sister?"

"He is not in his right mind," she mumbled. Erik winced at her words.

"That is Madame Giry's exact words about you," he retorted.

"You have no right to speak to me that way," Cossette yelled as she stood up and glared at her half-brother. "You have no right to question my personal matters either!" He stepped closer to her.

"What exactly are you saying, little sister?" he asked darkly.

"I am saying Erik and I are none of your business," she said firmly.

"He is _my _father and you are my sister," he roared. "This is all very sick, Cossette, if I am understanding correctly."

"You think you have the right to invade my life? You just appear and now you want to protect me? From what? What is so bad about Erik? Tell me!" Cossette's face was flushed with rage. Erik had a small twinge of guilt sink into his gut as he watched, but he was proud of Cossette for standing up for him and herself.

"He has not told you, has he?" he asked angrily. "Madame Giry enlightened me on how dangerous and corrupt this man is and I will not let you near him, whether he is my father or not. I have good reason not to; he almost strangled me!" He crossed his arms and his dark eyes glared at Cossette.

"I do not care about what she has told you," she stated defiantly. She placed her hands on her hips.

"You do not know of his past! You do not know about him and our mother. This man is a murderer, Cossette!" Erik winced. "He kills all that is good, and ruins all he touches," he declared. "A hellish genius!"

"I know and I do not care!" Cossette yelled. Her voice echoed throughout the cavern and came back and slapped Erik's face.

"What more proof do you want that his is a horrid man? He tried to strangle me!"

"But, he did not! And now I wish he had!"

"To Hell with it, then!" Pierre walked over to Cossette and grabbed her arm and pulled her close to him. He whispered something into her ear that Erik could not make out. Cossette's face paled and tears began to fall down her face. She allowed herself to be pulled into her brothers arms as he comforted her. "We must go," Pierre said quietly. "It is not safe here." She did not utter another word, but allowed herself to be pulled away by Pierre.

Erik watched them leave with arms linked. He could hear Cossette's sobs as they disappeared into the darkness as well as Pierre's comforting words. He wanted to run after them, but he could not bring himself to do it. Grief kept him where he was. He moved from behind the mirror as he could no longer hear their footsteps. "You hath no idea of what war you bring upon yourself, my son," he uttered under his breath.

"Talking to yourself again, Erik?" He jerked his head to see a shadowed figure standing behind him.

* * *

CLIFFIE! "Sneaky, sneaky, sneaky, they will never notice!" I really must say that I enjoy this twist. I hope you find as much joy in reading it as I do in writing it! Oh, happy Day!

Vives Amitiés á Tous,

EOL

p.s. Just to straighten some things out for those of you who are confused: Raoul raised Pierre as his own until he was sent away at the age of thirteen. Christine is Pierre's mother and Erik is his father. Cossette is the daughter of both Raoul and Christine. Ain't this family situation a bit messed up?

* * *


	31. Dammit, Madame

I apologize for the delay, my faithful readers! I shall not make excuses, but I am sorry for the length of this chappy.

* * *

Chapter 31

Dammit, Madame!

Erik could only stare at the shadowed figure leaning against the cool wall just behind him, a woman's figure; dressed in a green gown and hat, supporting itself with a worn cane. He had recognized the voice--her voice almost immediately. He took a moment to completely recover from his anguish before speaking. "What do I have the pleasure of meeting Madame Giry in a place better left forgotten?" he greeted solemnly.

"I could ask you the very same, dear Erik," she said coyly. She stepped out of the shadow, at a safe distance from him. "It has been so long…you look well. Age has been kind to you."

"Do not toy with me, Madame."

"That would be most foolish on my part," she replied with a crooked smile. "We all know _what _you are capable of."

"Dammit, Madame!" Erik stalked to the other side of his lair, overturning a few old displays in the process as well as his desk, a chair, and several candelabrums. He stopped his rampage as he came across an old drawing he had sketched of Christine. He ran his gloved hand over it as a single tear seeped through his mask. "Christine…"

"Did you speak, Erik?" He kept his back to her as he attempted to compose himself. There was a long silence. "You still love her, do you not?"

"Alas," he started as he studied his charcoal drawing, "I made the singing star, but I could not keep her."

"She was never _yours_," the old woman spoke as she crossed the lair toward him. "Christine was just a child…"

"A beautiful child," he whispered quietly. He pulled the drawing away from the wall and held it in his gloved hands. His heavy tears fell onto the parchment and mixed with the charcoal causing it to run together as he wept.

"Erik." Madame Giry reached out and touched his shoulder, upon which he tensed and jerked away from her, still clutching the picture in his hand. "What a hard life you have lived. I only wish you could have found a small glimpse of happiness..."

"Harder than you could ever understand." He wiped away his visible tears on his still wet sleeve. He folded the parchment and tucked it away inside his breast pocket. His voice and expression once again became filled with that familiar indifference. He finally turned and stared at Mme. Giry. "Tell me why."

"Why, Erik?" She stared back curiously.

"You know very well what I ask, Madame. My patience has long since grown short. And I demand an explanation!"

"I never meant for this to happen," the woman began to wail. "I did everything in my power to prevent this. I never meant for you to fall so deeply into this darkness after _Don Juan Triumphant_…Christine was not yours to love…And now her daughter, Erik! You were not supposed to fall in love with her. Not Cossette!"

"You assisted her in locating me, did you not?"

"I regret it every day."

"You are guilty." He had moved closer. "I demand to know why."

"She was desperate to find comfort after Christine's death." She nearly choked on her words. "She was curious about 'the masked man'. She wanted to know and I saw no harm in telling her of her mother's past. Not to mention that poor Raoul had turned to the cruel comfort of alcohol to ease his pain and could no longer be there for his daughter."

"That was not for you to tell. Who gives a bloody damn about Raoul? He had the chance to love Christine! He has wealth, yes! Had the chance of family life. He has stolen my son. He has a beautiful daughter… And a flawless face. He has no need for a mask." There was another long silence. "What do you make of Pierre--my boy?"

"I am sorry, dear Erik," she mumbled. "I never meant--"

"You are the cause of all of my miseries," he roared. His face reddened with anger. "You let me hope that I had a chance at a normal life in my solitude. It was you who encouraged my teaching of Christine! You stood back at let me peruse her even though you knew it would end in ruin. Did you not think I would grow to adore her? Or perhaps love her? Who could not love such a innocent creature of beauty and talent? You then had assisted that vile Vicomte and ruined my chance of a life beyond this opera house with her. I loved her and I still do…and I always will. It is your damned fault!" Tears of rage again, streamed down his face.

"Erik, I-I did not know you felt so strongly a love for Christine."

"How could you not?" He turned away from her again and leaned his head against the coolness of the cavern wall. He sighed and recovered. "What of my son?"

"What of him?" she retorted. She had ceased her tears and regained her composure of the bitter women she was.

"You very well no much more than I do, Madame," he growled bitterly. "Who gave you the right to play 'god' with my life?"

"Erik--"

"You assist Cossette to finding me…you take it away after I again, find love. You took her from me. You then locate my lost boy who does not belong to me anymore and tell him to protect Cossette from me! I had not had the pleasure of laying eyes on him since he was but a small boy and I was denied him then! And a few moments ago I almost killed my only son and now you--you…" his voiced trailed of as he stopped his rant from shortness of breath.

"Are you quite finished?" Madame Giry glared at him and tapped her cane against the cobblestone floor in annoyance. Erik glared back. "No? Listen to me, you pig-headed fool. Don't you dare accuse me of ruining your life like a child, Erik. I did all of those things, yes, but I did it to try and help your tortured soul. I did not help you escape from those retched gypsies only to have you rot away beneath the sellers of the opera house. I wanted to give you a chance at a real life, but you threw it away and now you have the idea to blame me for your sorrows? I am no the one responsible for your lonely and tortured soul."

"My tortured--oh, damn you, Madame!" he roared. "Me, a pig-headed fool? Ha! We shall see, Madame. We shall see." He pushed past Madame Giry and stalked toward one of the many exits of his former lair all the while mumbling to himself as he made his way to a tunnel.

Madame Giry ran after him and grabbed his arm. "What are you planning to do, Erik?"

"Nothing that concerns you, Madame," he hissed. He yanked his arm from her and stalked off into the dark system of tunnels and bittersweet memories.

* * *

Duhn, duhn, duhn, DUHN! Duhn, duhn, duhn, DUHNNNN! And so more drama is born! Bwahaha!

I kindly thank you for reading and reviewing,

EOL=]


	32. Madman Know No Fear

ATTENTION: THIS IS THE REAL CHAPTER AND IS MEANT TO REPLACE THE PREVIOUS CHAPTER 32! FORGET WHAT YOU HAVE READ! I APOLOGIZE, BUT I HAD A CHANGE OF HEART!

* * *

Chapter 32

Madmen Know No Fear

"Now what?" Pierre paced about Raoul's study.

"Keep her from him," Raoul answered from his desk.

"But how?" Pierre asked. "From what you have told me, my father is a very persistent man." Pierre ceased pacing and sat down in a chair across from Raoul.

"Very true," Raoul agreed. "But he is a danger to us—to her. He killed Christine—your mother and he will do the same to Cossette, if we give him the chance."

"I am aware." Pierre bowed his head and closed his eyes.

"He drove her crazy with ideas of musical angels and magic," Raoul continued. "He is a genius…a gifted genius, your father." Raoul acted as though the words pained him greatly. Pierre raised his eyes to meet Raoul's. "His genius turned to madness long ago…when your mother rejected him. She saw his distortion and rejected him, but he continued to pursue her…and he drove her mad…in the end…"

"And he will do the same to Cossette?"

"He will. He destroys all he touches," Raoul replied. "Did he not try to kill you?" Pierre nodded and rubbed his neck. "He did the very same to me."

"But why?" Pierre asked.

"Because he is mad!"

"So you keep saying," Pierre retorted.

"Are you defending him now? Even after he almost killed you?" Raoul demanded. "After he has who knows what he has done to your sister?"

"No, not at all," Pierre stammered. "It is that…he is my father."

"And?" Raoul looked very annoyed. "Your point is?"

"I don't bloody know!" Pierre stood and paced to the far side of the study and ran his hand threw his dark hair. "Shit!"

"Watch your mouth," Raoul growled.

"Don't scold me like I'm _your_ boy, Raoul," Pierre retorted. "You aren't my father and I could really care less what you have to say. The only reason I'm even here is because of that girl sleeping upstairs."

"How dare you—"

"Don't you dare—not even for a second think that I am here because I care what happens to you," Pierre interrupted. "Save your breath."

"You mother wouldn't—"

"I could really give a damn!" Pierre crossed the room back to Raoul and glared at him from behind the desk. "You are one to talk."

"Can't you be quiet?" Raoul asked. "You will wake her."

"Look at you!" Pierre began to circle Raoul. "And to think you call yourself a Vicomte!" Raoul opened his mouth to speak, but Pierre continued. "You look like hell and I can smell alcohol on you. You look like you haven't bathed or changed your clothes in a week…"

"I raised you as my own!" Raoul said in his defense.

"To hell with it all!" Pierre stormed out of the study.

***

Cossette was sitting on her bed as Pierre entered.

"What's that you're holding?" Pierre asked, still angry as ever. He walked toward her and threw himself down on the edge of the bed.

"It was mother's once," she replied. She held up the ring for him to see. He remained silent and glared at the wall with his back to her. "What's wrong?"

"_Your_ papa." Pierre spit the words like venom.

"He's _your_ papa, too," she said as she shifted her weight so she was sitting.

"Hell he is."

"What's wrong with you?"

"I don't have a damned idea." Pierre glared at her from over his shoulder.

"Don't look at me like that. I didn't do anything to you."

"True." Pierre's face relaxed. He paused. "Can you tell me why?"

"Why what?" Cossette toyed with the ring again.

"Tell me why my father—Erik is trying to steal my little sister away." He watched as she at the ring. "Well?"

"He gave me this," she said gesturing to the ring. "He asked me to marry him."

"What?" Pierre stared at her in disbelief. "He what?"

"Are you not surprised?" She replaced it onto her left ring finger. "He asked me to marry him."

"But he is my father!" Pierre stood and paced to the window and stared outside at the forever extending darkness. "Have you told your papa of this?"

"No, not yet."

"And you won't." Pierre turned back to face her. "Is he really all worth this?"

"Erik?"

"No, the bloody postman." Pierre crossed his arms.

She shot him a glare. "Yes, he is."

"Are you going to tell me or do I have to assume for myself?" He walked toward her again.

"What is there to tell?"

"Why is he so obsessed with you?" He asked.

"You sound like papa."

"Just answer the damned question," he demanded.

"Fine." Cossette sighed.

"Well?" Pierre stared at her anxiously.

"I love him."

"What?"

"You heard me right, dear brother." Cossette crossed her arms. "I love him and I will marry him."

"The hell you will!" Pierre sat down and grabbed her hands in his own. "You will stay away from him." He took her left hand in his hands and examined the ring on her finger. "You love him?" He looked up at her and saw tears had fallen down her cheeks.

She nodded. "More than you could know."

"Even after what he has done?" She nodded. "He killed so many people, he is corrupt, and he drove mother to her death! After knowing that, you still can love him?"

"Yes, yes." She nodded her head. "I love him. I love Erik. I don't care if you and papa stand in my way. Erik will come for me…and I will leave with him." Her tears were heavy.

"I'm sorry you feel that way, little sister, but Erik won't come for you and if he does…I'll put a bullet in his thick skull myself," Pierre declared darkly before standing.

"You won't!" Cossette buried her face in her hands and wailed. "You won't kill Erik!"

"I will, dear sister." Pierre exited the room.

* * *

Again: my apologize for changing this, but I thought if Erik just came and whisked her away...well, that would just be too easy.

Kill me later,

EOL


	33. Je t'adore

Chapter 33

Je t'adore

It was dark still, yes. The clouds were heavy with rain. The moon was hiding, afraid of what it might witness.

His head was heavy with malice—ready to do harm. He was desperate. He knew what he wanted and he wanted it now. His lone shadow stalked through the alleys of the great city of Paris. Silent, moving like a cat, he made his way to his…destination.

He would get what he wanted one way or another—easily and painless or difficult and end in tragedy.

* * *

"Come on," Pierre said as he leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "Don't get all sensitive."

"Shut up," Raoul growled as he donned his hat and coat. He grabbed a small bottle and put it in his pocket. "Ahhh…"

"Really?" Pierre's face was disgusted. "You're taking that with you? The last thing you need, is more alcohol."

"You worry about yourself," Raoul retorted.

"Yessir." Pierre reached for his coat.

"Where do you think you're going?" Raoul asked with a raised brow.

"Wherever it is that my drunk of a stepfather is," he replied with a cruel grin. "It's rumored that he is incapable of completing elementary tasks alone."

Raoul frowned. He lately wondered were the sweet and smart dark haired child that he had raised had went. He missed that boy...the one he once called son. The young boy who would spend hours walking with him in the gardens and playing chess.

He stared at Pierre, studying him. Pierre's hair was jet black, and just a bit too long. His face held a cocky and sinister expression. His brows were heavy and his green eyes menacing and intelligent. And his skin, a bit pale. He was tall and thin, definitely the opera ghost's son.

Raoul felt ill. He reached into his pocket, removed the small bottle, and drained it instantly. He then looked at Pierre who was watching him with cruel eyes. "Where I must go, you cannot," Raoul said. "Stay with Cossette. Protect her."

After a short moment, Pierre agreed and watched as Raoul departed, glad to be rid of his drunken step-father, but wanting to go with him.

* * *

In the dark of her chambers, Cossette sat on the side of her bed thinking. Her knees pulled up to her chest, her face hidden, unable to cry any more. Her tears had long since dried and her head full of doubt. She listened to the nighttime wind. It was quiet except for the occasional pitter patter of rainwater on her window.

"Maybe I was wrong," she mumbled to herself. "If he loved me he would be here with me…he'd come find me…Erik…" There was a quiet knock on her window. She dismissed it at first, but then it became persistent and realization and excitement entered her mind.

Cossette nearly sprung up from the bed and sprinted to the window. She threw it open, but nothing—no one was there. Her smile faded. She leaned out, her eyes searching about in the dark. "Erik?" She sighed and turned.

Just as she did, something caught her arm. She nearly screamed, but something covered her mouth. Something wet was pressed against her back. She started to struggle, but was turned quickly to face—

"Erik," she gasped as she saw the glint of the white mask in the dark. She closed the short distance between them and threw her arms around his damp form. "I thought you had forgotten me."

"Never could I forget you, my dear," he whispered. He allowed himself to wrap his arms around her and pull her even closer still. He buried his face in her neck and held her tight as though she would fade away on the spot.

"I missed you so much," she cried into his already wet shirt. "I thought you wouldn't come," she confessed. "I thought something happened to you."

"Cossette, I—"

"Oh, no! You—you cannot be here," she said, suddenly pushing his chest away. "You can't!"

"I'm not letting go," Erik growled as he held her tighter, despite the fact of her trying to free herself.

"He'll kill you, Erik," she started to sob. "Pierre said he is going to shoot you. Oh, Erik, if you love me you will go."

Erik was silent, but he held her tight and buried his masked face against her. He inhaled and savored her scent. He marveled in the way her body was warm and the way that it fit perfectly against his as he held her to him. He finally released her after a long moment.

"Erik?" Cossette questioned as she stared up at him. He said nothing, but stared back. She was smiling, a sad smile. He took her hand in both of his.

"Close your eyes; for your eyes will only tell the truth," he sang quietly. "And the truth isn't what you want to see." He brushed a kiss against her knuckles. "In the dark it is easy to pretend that the truth is what it ought to be."

"Oh, Erik," she said as she embraced him, again. "What is going on? It feels like we are lifting off."

"I am still here," he replied as he held his beloved.

"No, you're not," she cried. "You're not. You're somewhere else…you're someone else."

"What are you saying, Cossette?" he asked as she clung to him.

"Erik, I'm afraid," she said. "They've told me what you've done. The told me that you aren't who I think you are…they told me…you are a masked monster—that you killed my mother."

"It doesn't matter what I am—what I was," he replied. "You know who I am."

"Tell me it's going to be alright, even though I know it won't." She looked up at him. Tears were running down her pretty face. He looked at her helplessly. He wasn't sure what she was saying or what he should say.

"Tell me you love me," she said.

"Cossette—"

"Tell me, Erik," she pleaded. "I need to hear you say it. Tell me you love me." He stared into her eyes for a long time before leaning down and pressing a gentle kiss against her lips.

"I love you now," he whispered. "I'll love you always."

"I love you, too, Erik," Cossette whispered back. She pulled him closer and captured his lips in a long and passionate kiss. Erik pulled back and watched as an even sadder expression took on her features.

"That felt like goodbye."

* * *

**Sorry for not updating sooner. I hope this suffices. You all can thank a little miss "Phantom's-only-Christine" for harassing me until I wrote. ;) Thanks, friend. Reviews are always welcome and I thank you for reading.**

**Happy, Happy Day,**

**Erik's Other Lover**


	34. I'm Not Your Angel

Hello. My apologizes for literally taking forever to update. Finally got a new computer. Had to reread my entire story. I thought this chappy and its contents are well over due. Don't hurt me.

* * *

Chapter 34

I'm Not Your Angel

"That felt like goodbye." Cossette looked to Erik for answers.

"Cossette, I-" Her sudden gasp cut him off. They both froze. Footsteps approached from down the hall. "Cossette-"

"Go, Erik," she interrupted, pushing him toward the window he had entered through. "He will kill you!"

"Come with me," he pleaded, halfway out the window. "Come." He extended his gloved hand to her.

"No," she said sadly. "I must right this mess her with papa and Pierre. Until then, I can't." She jumped as her bedroom door flung open. Pierre stood in the doorway with a rifle in hand. "Pierre," she gasped. She glanced back to the window. Erik was gone.

"He was here, wasn't he?" Pierre asked as he quickly made way to the open window. Cossette shook her head. "Liar." He strained his eyes against the darkness. "There you are, father," he said bitterly. Seeing movement on the ground, he brought the gun to his shoulder and squeezed the trigger.

"No, Pierre-" Cossette pushed him as the shot went off.

"Dammit, Cossette!" He brought the rifle's sights back to his eyes. "He's fucking gone. I missed!" He looked back to his sister. "Where is he going?"

"I don't know!" Tears burned down her cheeks.

"No matter," Pierre sighed. "He'll be back." He pulled a chair to rest in front of the window and sat down, laying the lever action rifle lazily across his lap. "And, I will be waiting."

"Thank you for meeting me, Madame," Raoul greeted as he took the seat opposite of Madame Giry. "I hope this tavern doesn't insult you."

"Of course not, Raoul," she replied, shaking her head. She took a drink of her coffee. "What is it?"

"The phantom," he said grimly, dropping his voice to a whisper. "He tried again to kill me."

"I told you he is still dangerous," she said. "You look quite rough, Comte."

"Yes, well," he sighed. "You there." He pointed to a waitress. "I'll have a tankard." She quickly brought one to him. He took a much needed gulp. "Pierre is out of control."

"I told you this would come back to haunt you," she replied gravely. "You shouldn't have sent him away.

"You told me it was best!" Raoul replied incredulously.

* * *

"Lower your voice, Raoul," Madame Giry scolded. "It was best for Christine's mental health."

"You were right, Madame." Raoul leaned forward on his fist. "As he grew, he resembled the phantom more and more. With each passing day!" He leaned back in his chair. "How do we make the opera ghost forget Cossette?"

"Well..." Madame Giry pondered the thought for a good moment, while Raoul drank from his tankard. "Give him what he has wanted from the very start, I suppose."

Raoul's eyes widened. He nearly choked on his ale. "You don't mean—you can't be serious."

"It may work in your favor."

"But Cossette and Pierre do not know!"

"It might be the only way to save Cossette," she sad quite seriously. "It should break him."  
"Then it will be done!"

* * *

Moving swiftly down the dark streets of Paris, as swiftly as he could, the former phantom's eyes strained to read the street signs. "Rue de Rivoli..." Erik quickly made his way down to the middle-class flat. Nearing the quaint house, he searched for the lowest window.

"Daroga?" Erik tapped on the glass in earnest. "Daroga!" He watched as a lighted candle approached the window. "Nadir!"An aged man in nightcap and gown with eyes of jade and ebony skin, immediately sucked in a large intake of air as he saw the half-face white mask staring at him from the darkness of the street. "The latch," Erik gestured impatiently. The Persian quickly set down the candle and opened the window.

"What in Allah's name are you doing here?" Nadir harshly whispered as Erik crawled in. "It's been years! No letters! Not even a peep out of you! I thought you dead." He closed the window after Erik. Nadir raised his candle to get a better look at the former opera ghost. "Why, Erik," he began. "How nice to-" He paused as he saw a red liquid soaking through Erik's suit coat. "What-"

"I've not the time to explain, Daroga." Erik's words were quick. "Cicero, my horse, took off...I can't manage this myself," he said, gesturing to his side. Erik's hand was pressed firmly to the red stain on his suit.

"Yes, yes. Erik, come. Sit, sit," Nadir said gesturing to the living room sofa. "Please keep quiet, my friend. I cannot have you wake them now." Erik sat down and immediately winced. "Remove your coat and shirts Nadir instructed as he disappeared into the other room. He brought back a lit oil lamp and medical supplies. "My, you're quite soaked!"

"I did not think you would still reside here," Erik stated as he removed his shirt.

"Yes, of course." Nadir inspected Erik's wound. "I remarried—twenty years—three children."

"I never would have thought..." Erik hissed as Nadir began to disinfect his injury. "That is most unpleasant."

"I never would have thought, after all these years—after thinking you dead—that you would have come to me in the middle of the night with a gunshot wound," Nadir said, shaking his head. "I never thought I would see you after the fire...after Christine."

"Well..." Erik ignored the last word Nadir had said. "I'm surprised at you Daroga—that you aren't bombarding me with questions."

"I simply don't wish to know, Erik," Nadir replied. "I have my family to worry about. I can't be worried about poor unhappy Erik. Now, this will hurt."

"Daroga-" Erik clenched his teeth as Nadir began sticking instruments in his insides and prodding around. "Damn you, Nadir!" Erik roared in pain.

"Quiet, my friend," Nadir whispered. "Quiet."

"Hurry."

"There it is," Nadir whispered triumphantly. He held a steel ball between his tweezers. Erik winced and muttered a quiet thank you as Nadir bandaged him up. "You're quite lucky, my friend, that it didn't decide to lodge itself somewhere important." He paused and looked at Erik seriously. "I will admit, Erik, that I am now intrigued as to what happened."

"I haven't the time," Erik said quickly as he stood and donned his shirt and cloak once more. "Perhaps, when this is all over...we shall go for lunch, hm?"

"I cannot remember you ever asking me to lunch before, Erik," Nadir replied with a smile. "I would like nothing more."

"I must go," Erik whispered. "Do you have a horse?"

"Yes, Erik. But-"

"Daroga."

"Be careful, my friend," Nadir called after Erik, as he scrambled out the window.

* * *

Erik opened his eyes, immediately wincing at the light from a barred window. He looked down at his lap. His hands bound. He shook his head, regretting it. His head ached. _Where am I?_ He glanced around the empty room. The walls were bare, the floor was cold. He could hear muffled voices. He forced himself to stand against the wall. His side pained him greatly.

The door opened. In stepped Madame Giry and Raoul. "Hello, Erik," Madame Giry greeted.

"Yes, hello, Erik," Raoul mocked. Erik glared at them both as he steadied himself against the wall. "I'm sure you have wondered where you are...welcome to St. Micheal's Mental Institution."

"I'm very sorry, Erik," Giry said solemnly. "This is something we should have done long ago..."

"Come now, phantom," Raoul said as he crossed the room to Erik. As Raoul neared, Erik swung and hit the Comte square in his gut. Raoul toppled over.

"That's how you want to play it?" Raoul recovered and kicked Erik in his injured side. It was now his turn to fall to the floor.

"Enough." Madame Giry tapped her cane against the stone floor. "Bring him, Raoul."

"Yes, Madame." Raoul pushed Erik after Giry. "Have we something for you, phantom."

"To hell with you both," Erik spat.

"Now, now, Erik," Madame Giry cooed. "Raoul, cut his restrains. I'm sure he won't need them."

"Of course." He pulled a knife from his waist and cut Erik's bindings, and immediately flinched.

"What is this?" Erik growled as they pushed him through a door. It then slammed behind him. Erik stood puzzled and dazed. He rubbed his wrists and tried the door. It was locked. He stepped further into the room. There was a vanity with music scores scattered everywhere, a dresser, a canopy bed, a picture of Gustav Daae on the bedside table.

Erik froze. The hair on his neck prickled. The next sound caused his very soul to throb.

"Angel is that you?"

* * *

Don't eat me! Reviews are welcome. I'm already writing the next chappy.

Toodles,

E.O.L.


	35. Oh, Christine

He's a little does of Christine and Erik. Enjoy.

* * *

Chapter 35

Oh, Christine

"Angel?"

"Christine," he whispered. She stood in from of him. He was rigid; overcome with emotion. "Christine..."

"I often thought of this day." Her body shook. Her eyes red. "I thought of it and what I would do—what I would say." She paused to steady her breath. "I never forgot you for one day—not one moment. After all this time, angel, I still cannot find the words for this apology that comes too late—this late apology that I owe to you...words I should have voiced long ago."

"No, no, no!" Erik cried through his hands. "Don't, Christine. Do not do this." He sank to his knees.

"I've had a long time to think about it, angel." Tears leaked from her eyes. "I was blinded—but now I see clearly, angel. I choose you."

"No, Christine," Erik sighed through his hands. He looked up to see an aged but still beautiful Christine standing, and looking upon him with excitement. "Don't do this to me, Christine."

"Come, angel!" She grabbed his hands and pulled him over to her bed. He winced at his side as she plopped them both down. She grabbed papers off her night stand and thrust them into his hands.

"See? I wrote this song for you, angel! I wrote it! I thought you would love it! Raoul doesn't like it. He says it's nonsense, but I knew you wouldn't think so!" Her words were too fast for Erik. He felt overwhelmed. His head was spinning.

"Christine," he said quietly, not trusting his voice. "Christine...Christine." He could say nothing but her name.

"What is wrong, angel?" She inquired. The smile and excitement faded. "Are you all right?" He shook his head and closed his eyes."Angel?"

"Oh, Christine," he sighed as he pulled her to him. He held her tightly against his chest as tears escaped him. "This isn't right."

"I've missed you so, Erik," she said as she clung to him. "I've thought of you every day since...Don Juan Triumphant. I should have stayed with you!"

"You don't mean that, Christine," he said sadly.

"I do!" She replied. She pulled from him to meet his eyes. "I regret it everyday. I should have choose you."

"I just don't understand..." He pulled from her completely and stood, pacing to the far side of the room. "How did it end up like this?" He ran a hand through his hair.

"End up like what, angel?"

"Stop calling me that! I am not your angel," he roared. His voice echoed off the walls. Christine began to sob. "No, no, no, Christine." His voice softer now. "Don't cry. Don't cry."

"Where's my angel, papa? Where is he?" Christine stared at the ceiling as she sobbed. "He isn't my angel, papa. Take him back!"

Erik wanted to scream. He could not deal with the crazy. Realization donned on him. He had done this to her. His image, her angel's image, has haunted her all these years...driving her over the cliff of sanity.

"I'm here, Christine," he whispered as he took her into his arms once more. "Your angel is here. Don't cry. Please don't cry, Christine. It's alright. I won't raise my voice again."

"Do you promise?"

"Yes, of course, Christine," he said soothingly. The manner in which she spoke baffled him. She seemed like the little girl he would sing to at night when she had bad dreams; not the young woman who he grew to love, those many years ago. "Your angel is here, my dear Christine."

"Why did you leave me?" she asked.

"I did not leave you." He stroked her hair.

"Yes, you did."

"No, I did not, Christine," he sighed. "You left me."

"I don't—" She stared up at him with tears in her eyes.

"You must remember the last time you saw me." She shook her head. "I came to ask you for...Pierre..." He let his voice trail off as he was overcome with emotion again.

"Who's Pierre?" she asked.

"Our—our son, Christine." He spoke slowly to hold back tears. "My boy—_our_ boy."

"I don't have a son," she replied somberly.

"We have a son." His voice wavered ever so slightly. "You denied me him when he was a boy."

"I just don't understand..." He could feel her groping. She was trying to make sense of things.

"You have a daughter, too," Erik said. Guilt crept into his heart.

"Cossette."

"Yes, Christine." He stroked her hair again, pulling her into his lap as they sat on the bed. "She's a beautiful girl. A good girl. Our son on the other hand..."

Christine's face reddened suddenly. She sat up straight and stared at Erik. "I forgot about...that night." she said. "I forgot about our...secret meetings."

"No need for embarrassment, Christine," he assured her. "It was a mistake." He closed his eyes.

"No, it wasn't, Erik." She hastily placed a kiss to his his exposed cheek. He flinched as though he had been burned. "I should have stayed with you-"

"Don't, Christine." He looked down at her sadly. "Please don't do this to me. I cannot endure this again. What could have been—what might have been. I cannot."

"I made a mistake, Erik," she persisted. "It's taken all this time, but I wasn't happy with Raoul. I do not love him like I love you. I loved you since the first time you brought me to the lake under the opera house and you sang to me—the music of the night. I was afraid of my feelings. They were so raw and intense, Erik. You must understand. I was young then. It frightened me. Raoul was safe."

"Why did you agree to be engaged to him then?"

"Because he was safe, Erik! You frightened me. I wasn't ready for your world."

"Your excuses ruin your apology."

"I am very sorry, angel. I wish you could understand how sorry I am. It was my fault, all of this." She held him tighter. "I never intended to cause you pain."

"I wish I could take back all the times I gave in to you," he said threw gritted teeth. He removed her from his lap. He stood and crossed his arms.

"Erik-"

"Even now! After the disaster at the opera house—when you ripped the mask from my face for a second time-" She flinched at his words. "Even after that, Christine! You called on me several times after you married Raoul—and I came like a fool—a fool with hope. I came to you and held you, sang to you, made love to you, had a son by you! You denied me him, Christine. You denied me my son. He hates me! See this!" He lifted his shirt to show her the bandages soaked in red. "Pierre did this!"

"I'm sorry, Erik—I've made some bad choices," she cried.

"You ruined my life!"

"You ruined mine!" she shot back.

"At least you had a life. You had two children. Two men! A husband and your _angel_. You got to enjoy Cossette and Pierre!" he growled.

"How do you know about Cossette?" She rubbed her eyes.

"She came to find me," Erik said calmer now. "After you died."

"What?" Christine stared at him.

"She said you asked for me on your death bed," he replied. "I mourned you, Christine."

"Raoul must have told her that..." She let her voice trail off.

The silence passed between them for a long moment.

"What else did she say?"

"Many unpleasantries I don't wish to discuss," Erik said grimly.

"I'm so sorry, Erik! My poor Erik!" she sobbed. "I shouldn't have left you alone!"

"You've got nerve," he sneered. "I am not _your_ Erik anymore, Christine."

"You are my angel!"

"Was—as in past tense. You threw all of that away, Christine! Not I. You had plenty of chances to correct your mistake—as you said. I offered you my hand countless times, but you always rejected me. I demand to know why!" He slammed his fist down on her vanity as he paced. "Why?"

"I told you. I was young. I was afraid!" she cried. "What more do you want?"

"That's not good enough, Christine." His tears turn to anger. "You had given me false hope for so long! You led me on! Even now—with your touches and apology and kind face, but there is nothing kind or pretty about you anymore, Christine."

"I regret so much, Erik! I willingly throw myself at you now!" She stood and closed the distance between them. "There are so many things I wish to express and I cannot. But I love you, Erik."

"Do not say those words to me!" He pushed her back.

"It is true, Erik!" she countered. "You cannot say that you don't love me." His face softened.

"I do not love you...like I loved you...when you were my only source of compassion."

"I don't understand, Erik-" She searched his eyes. "There's someone else...isn't there?" He hung his head. "Who?" she demanded.

"You will hate me for it." He could not meet her eyes.

"Erik? Who?" she screamed at him.

"Cossette."

"How could you!" She slapped him.

"How could I, Christine?" he asked incredulously, holding he stinging cheek. "How does it feel to know you want something but cannot have it? Hm?"

"Erik, I love you. I—I'm sorry-"

"I have waited a long time to hear those words from you, Christine. I would have done anything to hear them once upon a time. Now, though...they do not have the same impact!"

"Because you are in love with my daughter, Erik!" she shrieked. "You are suppose to love me!"

"You have never loved me as I loved you—never! Yours in not a passionate heart—your heart has no flame! You don't even love me now, Christine. Not at this moment-"

"Will you just-"

"Shut up!" he yelled into her face. "Let me tell you, let me. Every time I look at your face, Christine or even remember it, it wrecks me. And the way you have treated me! You ruin everything I do—everything I have ever wanted to do! I pinned my dreams on you—you shattered them, Christine. I admit it, I still love you, Christine and I always will, but I won't allow myself that torture—that heartache again.

"If you could see the way Cossette loves me, maybe you could understand. I will marry her, Christine." He paused to collect himself. He could see that he obviously hurt her—he hurt himself. "If you love me, Christine, you will let me go to her."

"Erik, I love you..." She embraced him.

"I know," he said. Once she released him, he lifted her chin with his gloved finger to meet his gaze. He placed a gentle kiss to her lips.

"Don't forget me," she whispered. Tears streamed down her face.

"Goodbye, Christine."

* * *

Deja vu for sure. Review and tell me how you liked/hated this chappy, please.

Happy Day,

E.O.L.


End file.
